


Something More

by Sweasley



Series: Don't F*** It Up [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Perspective, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Harry Potter Next Generation, Male-Female Friendship, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Quidditch, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 142,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweasley/pseuds/Sweasley
Summary: A companion story to my "Don't F*** It Up" Series. A collection of one shots from Jack's POV: His journey through Hogwarts and what inevitably led him to fall for Dominique Weasley. (4/4)Also posted on ffnet
Relationships: Dominique Weasley/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Don't F*** It Up [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748587
Comments: 57
Kudos: 20





	1. First and Second Year

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize someone, they belong to JKR. The others are creations of mine to fill the gaps. Plus, any similarities are accidental and completely unintentional.
> 
> A/N: Something More is a companion story to my "Don't Fuck It Up" series. I DO NOT recommend reading unless you've checked that series out, since a lot of these one shots are either plucked from and/or built around the stories in the series. It'll be weird out of context.

* * *

**First Year**

* * *

**#1: Duck**

_"Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."_

There was a knock at the door, if one could call it that. A knock usually insinuated the other person would wait to be acknowledged or invited in, but not in this case. The knock was more cursory than anything else, because a second later, the door to Jack Ians' bedroom swung open.

A fourteen year-old boy, to Jack's eleven, stood on the threshold looking in on Jack as he sat on his bed watching television. Jack had assumed he was here to say something to him, but instead they stared at each other for all of five seconds before the older boy suddenly threw a small, yellow, stuffed duck toy at Jack's head.

"Duck," he said, though it barely grazed Jack's hair.

"You missed," said Jack, picking up the duck from where it had landed on his bed and then tossing it behind him and up toward the pillow. He'd hold onto that for now.

His older brother shrugged as if it were no bother to him. For brothers, the two didn't look much alike. Jack had dark blonde hair; lighter, grey eyes; and a solid build that he'd picked up from his mother's side of the family. Jiffy—his brother's nickname—was skinny and lean, sporting much darker hair and eyes like their father. Aside from their looks, their personalities were different as well. Jiffy was the more outgoing and extroverted one, while Jack...well, he didn't go out much if he didn't have to.

Jiffy's eyes quickly went to the television before settling directly back on his younger brother. He immediately sighed. "How many times can you watch Jurassic Park?"

Jack shrugged. "Can there be too many times? It's a classic."

Jiffy walked over and immediately shut the television off, causing Jack to shoot him a rather contemptuous look. "What are you doing?"

"You're going to waste away in here," said his brother, pointing at the screen. "You know that?"

Jack shrugged again. That really didn't sound so bad.

"Maeve Donaghue told me she saw the Byrne brothers fucking with you this morning. Said they tried tossing you into a bush."

"Tried," Jack mumbled, keeping his gaze away from his brother. "The didn't succeed. Not today, at least."

The stupid Byrne brothers. They were always on his case since the day three years ago when he'd—and he still didn't know how—broke David's finger after he'd been circling it in his face in an obnoxious manner, claiming to not be touching him. All Jack had done was barely flick it away, but the surprising force of it had apparently snapped his finger in two places. People could hear the crack from across the classroom. From that day forward, David and his brother, Donald, had started calling him a freak and told the entire school he was an alien.

He didn't know if people really believed it, but it still didn't stop them from talking about him; making comments about him whenever anything unusual or strange happened. _"I bet Jack Ians did it_ …" was a common phrase when something strange happened.

Some people, like the Byrnes, felt that tripping him when he passed or shoving him into walls in the corridors was apparently going to make him less of a freak. Others just laughed and pointed. If something strange happened, even if he'd been nowhere near it, he was always somehow responsible.

And the worst part is that they weren't entirely wrong about him making strange stuff happen. He did make loads of strange stuff happen, though he had no idea why or how. The finger thing was just one example, but he'd also once been able to make a glass from the cupboard come straight to his hand just by wishing it would. He twice woke up hovering inches over his bed, only to fall the second he realized it. He hit a tennis ball extraordinarily hard in P.E., but it hadn't been a sudden showing of athletic prowess. At the time, he'd barely even tried—he's tapped it, really—but it had gone well over the perimeter fence over a hundred yards away. It had caused the entire class to stare at him rather mystified; it had prompted his coach to tell him to seriously consider proper tennis lessons.

He hated the looks and the stares, the questions and the whispers about whether he really was an alien; he avoided everyone as much as he could, choosing instead to sit at home watching his film collection. When the characters on the screen made strange things happen, it was often considered a good thing. Spiderman didn't get nearly the same amount of shit that he did; if he did, at least he had something to show for it.

"You know the Byrnes are always messing with me," Jack said. "I don't care."

"They actually tried to get you in a bush?" Jiffy asked.

He shrugged. "I wriggled free before they could. They gave up quicker than usual. I think David had to get to football practice."

Jiffy sighed, sounding aggravated. "Jacky, you've got to stand up for yourself."

"But it's easier when you just do it for me," Jack said with a cheeky sort of grin. The Byrne brothers were eleven and twelve respectively, so Jiffy and his friends did have some clout over them. The problem was that they were as big as his fourteen-year-old brother, and cared little for rules. While Jiffy had told them to fuck off repeatedly, the Byrnes barely cared what he had to say. They would just wait until Jack was on his own to beat on him.

"They're never going to stop unless you do something," Jiffy offered, now leaning against the door frame. "You, not me. Do you really want to start the next year of school with them thinking they can—?"

"Jif! Jack!" called the voice of their mother from the lower level of the house. "Downstairs! Now!"

Jack made a face. She sounded annoyed. Jiffy noticed it too as they exchanged silent looks. Neither said a word, but apparently the lack of response only prompted their mother to yell again. "Now, is not the time for dawdling!"

"Did you do something?" Jiffy asked as Jack stood and began following him downstairs.

"Me? I've been in my room all afternoon. You're the one who probably—"

They'd reach the bottom of the stairs where they found their mother waiting for them, not looking all too pleased. She was a stout woman who usually had a very friendly and warm aura about her, though you wouldn't know it now given the very concerned look on her face at the moment. Her blondish hair—which was a very shades lighter than Jack's though that was because she dyed it—was pulled back in a bun and her eyes were fixed on both of her sons. Her hand was also on her hip. That last part meant she was annoyed.

"Jack, what's this I hear about the Byrnes giving you trouble again?"

He found his cheeks beginning to feel warmer. Did everyone know? He couldn't even remember anyone being around this morning to see it happen. Had they all been hiding in the bloody bushes?

"I heard it from Mrs. Pearl." She was now staring at Jiffy now, "I thought you went and had words with them?"

"I did," Jiffy said, "but they're muppets. They don't listen to their own parents, you think they're going to listen to me?" He made a face. "Absolute terrors."

Their mother sighed and let her light eyes settle on her youngest son. This wasn't the first time she seemed frustrated by the story of the Byrnes harassing him, but it was the first time that week…

"I really feel I should speak to their parents—"

"No!" said Jack, shaking his head immediately. "No, you can't. They'll kill me."

"You're sentencing Jack to death," Jiffy agreed. "They'll destroy him. And as I just said, they don't listen to their parents anyway. You're wasting your time."

"I cannot sit back and let this continue," she said, again looking frustrated, but also sad now. She always looked really sad when the sorts of stories of Jack being pushed around came up. It was clear that she hated it; hated how he hated it and would always hide away as a means of self preservation. But outside of him suddenly becoming a lot more confident—and strong, and willing to somehow fight back against those arseholes—nothing was changing.

"Jif," said their mother, "You're his older brother. You're supposed to—"

"I do!" he said automatically, "The only thing I haven't done is beat the shit out of them, and if you want me to try and do that—"

"John Francis," his mother snapped, her face tightening. "Is your language really necessary? Honestly, every other word out of your mouth lately..."

Jiffy sighed, clearly frustrated with this entire conversation. He'd actually seemed frustrated with most of the things their parents said lately, which their father called, "The ugly side of adolescence." Jack knew that he would now either pick a fight or walk away.

He turned to walk away, having picked the flight response this time. Jack watched him go, now bracing himself for the impending conversation he was going to have with his mother about how he was "fine" and "it didn't bother him." He could already see the concern in her eyes itching to have this out, but that was before Jiffy had stopped suddenly across the room and said, "Is that an owl?"

All three of them turned to look. Sure enough, sitting on the other side of the front window, a brown, tawny owl sat on the sill. It looked as if it was staring at them with a purpose.

"Aren't owls nocturnal?" Jiffy asked, turning around. "Why's it out in the middle of the afternoon?"

"Oh, what if it's hurt?" said their mother. She was a tender heart for any and all animal causes. She would even squash spiders that got in the house; instead choosing to catch and release them.

Jiffy had walked closer to the window, and it was then that owl reached down to pick up something that had been resting near its feet. It immediately made Jiffy sound utterly confused. "It looks like it has a letter."

"Don't be ridiculous," said their mother. "What would an owl want with a letter?"

* * *

**#2: Magic Tricks**

"There are four houses," a girl on the train had told Jack, before explaining all about these strangely named houses that he kept hearing over and over again. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. You'll be sorted into one of them."

"How?" Jack had asked.

"The Sorting Hat, of course," she said rather obviously, as if that alone answered his question.

He hadn't pushed it. He'd actually sat rather silently for the rest of the train ride while all around him, people his age and older talked of things like Puking Pastilles and Quidditch. Someone had used their wand to levitate their luggage up into the racks, and someone else asked if anyone had change for a Galleon. One boy claimed to have a ghoul in the new house his family moved into over the summer, which made Jack's jaw drop. However, it had garnered a rather bored response from everyone else. Based on their reactions, it was almost as if the boy had told everyone he'd found a toilet in his house.

Weeks earlier, someone claiming to be a wizard had come to Jack's house to explain to him and his family that Jack was an apparently a wizard as well, and by receiving that letter the owl had brought him, he'd been invited to attend a specialized magical school called Hogwarts.

He was apparently what the older wizard called a "Muggleborn" which meant he did not come from a magical family—for which there were apparently many like him. It was an entire secret society; hundreds of witches and wizards who lived and worked among them. At the age of eleven, they were to begin their core magical education, which is why Jack was only now finding out about any of this.

The wizard had gone on and on, though Jack and his parents had sat there rather dumbstruck on the sofa in their sitting room. This seemed like a joke—a strange one—that someone like one of the Byrne brothers would have put together just to humiliate him. But then, who was this man? How had he trained an owl to bring post to houses? How did he turn his father's teacup into a mouse? How did he levitate the loveseat?

"So, it's a school where he'll learn to do magic tricks?" asked his father, a lean and lanky man, with his short kept dark hair and dark eyes—the latter of which were now narrowed on this strange man sitting on their sofa in green robes. He'd spoken for the first time since the man had really started talking.

"He'll learn to do _magic,_ " the wizard said with a smile. "They're not tricks. I assure you it's all quite real."

"But that's it?" asked his mother. "Only magic? No maths. No literature? No science?"

"Instead of saying 'that's it'," said the wizard, "we like to think more along the lines of, 'that's everything.'"

Jack could tell his father wasn't keen on the cryptic responses, while his mother wasn't fond with...any of it. His family—his mother specifically—were all very invested in the Catholic Church, and the talk of magic and spells wasn't something that was bound to go over well. Jack already assumed this man who'd come to call was wasting his time the moment he'd started speaking about an entire school devoted to something he'd called the "magical arts."

After three hours of talking, the wizard had left the house that day claiming he would give them some time to process all of this new information, but would return in a few days time for their response. In the meantime, they could call a specialized telephone number—it was only five digits—and ask any questions they may have. Specialized people were standing by to assist and answer any questions they may have.

"It explains a few things," Jack had overheard his father saying to his mother later that night, as he sat at the top of the stairs purposely listening in on their conversation. "A lot of the strange things he's done."

"None of this makes sense, John," she'd replied. She sounded more unnerved than Jack had ever heard her.

"Apparently, it makes perfect sense," he'd said. "Not to us, mind you. But to that bloke in the cloak who'd come by. He seemed to have an answer for everything."

"But Jack can't possibly be…? I mean, this is madness. Isn't it?"

Jack hadn't even got his hopes up. Magic was against every fiber of what he and his parents had grown up believing in. At the same time, Jack couldn't help but feel utterly connected to so much of what that wizard bloke had spoken about. That man hadn't seemed the least bit surprised to hear that Jack had been making strange things happen for years, claiming that was the untamed magic he had inside of him manifesting and reacting. He claimed it was typical for young and untrained wizards; that this school would help him learn to control that and learn to harness it. As bizarre as it all sounded, Jack wanted to know more. He wanted to see if there was anything to it.

He'd practically fallen out of his chair two days later when his parents had told him they were willing to let him try things out. He couldn't believe they'd actually considered it, let alone decided to let him go, but they apparently had their reasons. His father had been the one to deliver this news, while his mother sat quietly beside him looking as anxious as Jack had ever seen her. Still, she didn't object. She looked sad about it, but she didn't object.

"If it's all a load of tosh, you're coming straight home," his father had said at the end. "These magic tricks had better be fantastic."

And while he had no idea what he was getting himself into, as Jack stepped off of a boat that he'd just been forced to take across a great lake in order to approach a giant castle—a castle!—he truly didn't know what to expect. If this was a joke, someone had clearly gone through quite a bit of effort to make it believable.

"You need to get into Ravenclaw," he heard someone from the group of girls walking behind him say. When he turned to look, one with really long brown hair was explaining this to a very skinny girl with shorter, darker hair.

"My dad was in Gryffindor, though," said the skinny girl. "And he was the first one in his entire family to come to school here, so it's all I know. My mum is a Muggle, so…"

"You don't want Gryffindor," said another one of the girls, this one with blondish hair. "My dad says they're all ego. You'll want to be with us in Ravenclaw."

"How do you know for sure you'll be in Ravenclaw?" asked the skinny girl.

"Everyone in my family had been in Ravenclaw," said the long-haired girl.

"Mine too," said the blonde. A fourth member of their group, this one more mousy looking and who hadn't spoken yet also added, "Mine too."

"It's why the three of us know each other," said the blonde. "Our parents were all friends and now we are. You don't want Gryffindor. Trust me on that."

Jack looked away from the group of girls, wondering now if he didn't want Gryffindor either. Apparently, this Ravenclaw house was the place to be. Did they have a choice? He still didn't understand what this hat he'd been told about did.

"What's wrong with Gryffindor?" asked another voice, and when Jack turned to look in front of him, a girl with a very pretty face, very blonde hair, and very blue eyes was staring—rather harshly—back at the group of girls behind him. She was actually craning her neck around him to see them since he was directly in her line of sight. He immediately stepped to the side.

"Nothing," said the original blonde girl, not looking as if she wanted to have this conversation.

The blue-eyed girl narrowed those very eyes. "But you just said…"

"Nic, leave it," said a boy standing beside her in a dismissive sort of way. He had darker red hair, but also had very blue eyes. They seemed to know each other well enough that he was tugging on her robe sleeve to turn back around.

"No. She just said…" said the girl, though she eventually relented to the boy who was again throwing her a look to drop it.

Why did everyone seem to know everybody? Jack wondered. Everywhere he looked, people seemed to have already made friends, or apparently grown up together because their parents were all in the same house once some time ago. Was he the only person here who didn't know anyone?

"Gryffindor's the best," the very blonde girl said quickly over her shoulder to the group of girls, as if she needed to get the last word in. "Just so you know."

There wasn't an immediate response, and Jack assumed that was that; though after a minute he did hear one of the girls behind him very quietly whisper, "See? That's Gryffindor for you. All ego."

"You think you're getting Gryffindor, then?" asked a different, taller boy who was standing not far from the very blonde girl. He was speaking to her.

"Oh, I know we'll—" she pointed between her and the boy she seemed to know, "—get in. Weasleys always end up in Gryffindor."

"Are you a Weasley?" asked the tall boy, though a few other people turned to look now as well. "Really? I think I've got about ten Ron Weasley chocolate frog cards. Do you know him?"

The boy beside the blonde girl sighed, and the girl now seemed as if she were wishing she'd never brought it up. Luckily for her, a distraction came in the form of a man with brown hair and dark blue robes who'd entered the room they were all currently filling. He walked directly over to the group of them. He had a friendly face and was smiling at everyone.

"Good evening," he said, standing directly in front. His eyes seemed to scan the crowd, and they briefly settled on the loud girl and the boy in front of Jack. The man smiled quickly in acknowledgement, and the boy gave a small wave while the girl whispered to him, "Don't forget. We have to call him professor now."

Jack frowned. People here even knew the teachers?! Did everyone know everyone? Was he really that much of an outsider?

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the man. "I am Professor Longbottom, and I am one of the many professors you'll meet here while acquiring your magical education. Specifically, I teach Herbology."

Herbol-o-what?

"We'll be getting better acquainted soon enough, but first things first, we need to get you Sorted into your houses. Now, there are four houses—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. While you are here at Hogwarts, your houses will be like your family…"

This house thing seemed really important. Jack was getting that message loud and clear. You would live with them, take classes with them, essentially spend all of your time with these people for the next seven years. It seemed you really wanted a good house, but what house was the best? Everyone seemed to have so many different opinions.

"Follow me, please," the man called Longbottom finally said after he'd finished giving his little speech. He'd instructed them to queue themselves up, and it seemed now they were headed into another room—a vast, huge, massive sort of room that Jack could barely take in as they were marched down a center aisle between hundreds of other, older, seated students. The ceiling was...was that a projection of the outside sky? And there were floating candles everywhere. Was this actually real? He seriously still expected someone to jump out and claim this was all an elaborate hoax.

The Longbottom man stopped them near the front of the room, where the entire school's eyes were now on them. In front of them, a large table full of adults sat—teachers, he assumed—where a very pinched looking woman in a large, purple hat sitting dead center and watching the group carefully. A stool had been summoned from somewhere, and upon it was an old, tattered looking hat that clearly had seen better days. This must have been the famous Sorting Hat everyone spoke of. While Jack hadn't known what to expect, that hadn't been it.

Longbottom had presented a scroll of some sort and was now unraveling it. He scanned it's contents quickly before calling out the name, "Avery, Reginald."

No one directly around Jack moved. It was on the other side of the crowd a taller boy with jet black hair stepped forward. He grinned a little as he sat down on the stool, which only took maybe ten seconds to suddenly shout out, "Slytherin!"

Cheers and applause rang out from the table along the right side of the room. Reginald Avery seemed quite pleased with himself, so perhaps that was what he wanted. Maybe Slytherin wasn't so bad?

Jack watched then as Ansel Baileymoore became a Ravenclaw, which he seemed thrilled with. Eldra Boone then became a Hufflepuff. Eleanor Browning, who had been the mousy, quiet girl from earlier, had been called next, and Jack saw her friends give her encouraging smiles. She stepped up to the stool and sat. For whatever reason, this time it seemed to take forever.

Everyone else had been no longer than twenty seconds, but this one was already going on a minute. Jack looked around. Was there really a process to this? He'd just assumed the hat picked people at random.

"Gryffindor!" the hat finally shouted, which caused this Eleanor girl's face to completely drop off. There were cheers from the Gryffindor table, but it was clear she didn't hear them or even care to. She looked as if she were about to cry, and her friends looked absolutely horrified. All she could seem to do was stare rather blankly at them until Longbottom gently nudged her off the stool, saying something along the lines of being excited to welcome her to his house.

Well, if Gryffindor was enough to make people cry, Jack thought, maybe he really didn't want that one.

The Sorting continued, with "Chin, Lira" going to Ravenclaw; "Collins, Ellibit" going Hufflepuff; and then two Slytherins—"Coulson, Nicholas" and "Crawley, Diana." The Sortings were flying by now. Daniels to Ravenclaw, Ellison to Hufflepuff, Giggleswick to Ravenclaw, Gilmore to Ravenclaw, Hardwicke to Slytherin.

"Ians, Jack," called Longbottom suddenly, and it took Jack a moment to realize that was his name; he'd been called. People were looking around for someone to step forward, but _he_ was that someone.

Slowly he moved forward, swallowing hard as Longbottom grinned at him as he approached. The room seemed so much larger now. Everyone was watching him. He hated when everyone watched him because that was when he tended to make weird stuff happen.

He sat and Longbottom placed the hat on his head. Suddenly, a voice started speaking to him.

 _"You seem confused. Well, yes, it can be overwhelming. Especially for Muggleborns. Luckily, I make the decision for you, and what I see here is a very hard-working nature. Very dedicated. Quite loyal, as well. You're very determined when you want to achieve something. That could be a very good fit for Hufflepuff. But there's something else here...a desire to prove yourself that may be better suited for...yes, I feel that's best. You should feel quite at home in_ — "Gryffindor!"

Cheers from the Gryffindor table, which had thus far been severely lacking in new members—minus the Eleanor girl who still had silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jack was greeted cordially by several of the members of the Gryffindor table. In those few moments, he already felt more welcome than he had been back at his old school. This Gryffindor didn't seem so bad so far. Perhaps this would be a good fit after all.

"Khan, Kiera"—the chatty, long-haired girl from earlier— got her wish to go to Ravenclaw, and shortly after, "Kirke, Sarah" joined Jack at the Gryffindor table. Unlike Eleanor, she seemed quite happy with her selection and immediately smiled at him in a very, " _Looks like we're in this together" s_ ort of way. She tried to do the same to Eleanor, but she was too busy sharing devastated looks with her friend Kiera at the table next door.

Gryffindor didn't get another member joining them until T came around, when "Taggart, Flynn" was announced. Sarah's face lit up excitedly and she clapped loudly, greeting him as he took the seat directly beside her and claimed he knew they'd get the same house. They, too, seemed to know each other, which was really starting to make Jack feel rather isolated.

He continued to watch the original group dwindle down to just a handful of more kids. The skinny girl from earlier—the one who the other girls had been trying to convince to join Ravenclaw; a taller, willowy looking girl; a bigger boy with very short hair; the really blonde, loud girl; and the boy she'd been talking to.

"Wallace, Upton" became a Hufflepuff, which seemed to be leading the charge of new students with about twelve now. Jack looked around the Gryffindor table and noticed it was just the four of them. They would have to pick up all four other people to even tie Slytherin. Ravenclaw already had nine.

"Weasley, Dominique," said Longbottom, smiling directly at the blonde girl.

There was a suddenly low whisper around the room at her name. Down the length of the table, several people were signaling to another pretty, blondish girl, who was nodding and saying, "Yeah, my sister." From across from him, Flynn was asking Sarah something that ended with, "Like from the joke shop…?"

The blonde girl took to the seat rather confidently, and in a quick turnaround of maybe ten seconds, the hat was already shouting, "Gryffindor." The table erupted in cheers as it did for the others. The blonde girl hopped off the stool, looking rather pleased with herself. She'd got her wish.

She'd come to sit at the table beside Jack, and he threw her a polite smile just as he had the others. She didn't even acknowledge him, instead searching for someone down the length of the table and grinning specifically at them. Maybe the one claiming to be her sister?

"Guess we'll be roommates," Sarah said pleasantly, clearly trying to engage her, but the girl—whose name Jack had already forgotten—didn't even pay her any attention. Her gaze was already raptly back on the front of the room as, "Weasley, Louis," was now called.

"Oh, another Weasley," said Flynn rather blankly, as if that was a mild surprise. Jack didn't understand why, but he barely had time to think about it because the hat just as quickly Sorted this one into Gryffindor as well.

The blonde girl beside him started clapping loudly before swinging back around forward in her seat. She smiled at no one in particular and almost looked to be talking to herself as she said, "Obviously."

The boy came to join them and plop down behind the blonde girl, both of them smiling and seemingly relieved to have that behind them. He seemed much more cordial than his counterpart, because he immediately smiled at everyone and introduced himself as Louis.

"Nice to meet you," he said, craning his head around the blonde girl after asking Jack his name. "Seems we've got the small group this year."

"There's still two more people," Sarah offered, just as "Young, Natalie"—the skinny girl—was called to the front. For the third time in a row, Gryffindor had scored another member; it seemed that the hat was saving all of the Gyffindors for the end. Jack had almost been convinced they'd get all four, but the last and final person, "Zabini, Zahara," ended up going to Slytherin.

They all greeted Natalie as she sat and, once she'd settled, Flynn had asked Louis and the blonde girl, "You two related? You've got the same last name."

"We're brother and sister," said the girl rather shortly. She made it seem like a dumb question, but Jack had actually been wondering the same thing.

"We're twins," Louis offered.

"Oh, cool," said Flynn. "Identical?"

Alright, that actually was a dumb question, and even Jack furrowed his brow at that. He could see Sarah seated beside Flynn shaking her head; from beside Jack, the blonde girl was staring at Flynn as if he were a complete moron. Louis at least attempted to answer that question without laughing.

"Um, no," he said, smiling a little. "We're definitely not identical, seeing as I'm a boy and she's a girl..."

"Are you thick or something?" the girl asked, still staring at Flynn as if he were an idiot.

"Leave it," Louis told his sister, and he smiled back at the others. "Believe it or not, you're not the first person to ask us that."

"Right, and they were thick, too…" she said.

In 'things that he never would have ever imagined happening to him three months ago' news, Jack watched as actual, translucent ghosts began entering the Great Hall, floating above the tables and chatting and greeting students as they went. He'd been so distracted watching them that he hadn't noticed the empty table from moments ago was now completely covered with food. A massive feast had just appeared out of nowhere.

He blinked and looked around, noticing that the older students didn't seem fazed by this, but his fellow first-years seemed rather awestruck. Flynn had actually said, "Woah," and even the blonde girl from beside him was laughing a little—the first genuine laugh he'd heard out of her since she'd sat. Apparently, a giant feast appearing out of nowhere still wasn't normal enough to not trigger reactions out of these wizard kids.

Over dinner, Jack found out quickly he was the only Muggleborn among them. Flynn's parents were wizards, but his mum had died when he was seven in some sort of spell accident. Sarah's parents and siblings were all wizards and Gryffindors. Louis and Dominique—he'd finally learned her name—came from generations of wizards and Gryffindors, which apparently surprised none of the others. Jack was clearly missing something when it came to them, and was starting to think they must be from a well-known family or have famous parents.

Natalie repeated her story about her father having been in Gryffindor, though her mother was a Muggle. She'd mentioned her dad had been Muggleborn, and that she was only the second magical person born into their family. That seemed to be as close as Jack was getting to a prior non-magical connection.

Eleanor, when asked about herself, just managed to squeak something about Ravenclaw before sulkily returning to the potatoes she wasn't eating.

"You got the better house," Dominique told her, seemingly tired of her glum mood. "I don't see why you care so much? You can't change it now, so you may as well deal with it."

Eleanor had started to sniffle and wipe her eyes again, causing everyone to throw Dominique rather pointed looks. Clearly the girl was upset and needed some time to cope with being separated from her friends and the house she wanted.

"Please, as if you wouldn't be bawling your eyes out if they'd gone and stuck you in any other house," Louis said to her. "You'd be crying harder than her and probably be up there begging McGonagall to change you. You'd be petitioning Shacklebolt himself."

Dominique shrugged, though was now mumbling something subject changing about her potatoes being too lumpy to eat. She then looked around at the lot of them. "Does anyone play Quidditch?"

Everyone shook their heads. That Quidditch word kept coming up, Jack noticed. He could remember a shop on that wizarding shopping street that was dedicated to it, though he hadn't gotten a chance to really investigate it. He figured it was a sport of some kind, but given that no one sitting here other than Dominique seemed particularly interested, he wondered how popular it was.

"Does anyone follow Quidditch?" Dominique asked, looking from face to face. The girls all shook their heads, though Flynn offered a lame sounding, "A bit."

She looked annoyed to hear that, as if she was clearly stuck with a bunch of people she now found rather undesirable. It was then that she turned and looked at Jack. "What about you?"

He inhaled slowly. There was something very intimidating about her that made him think there was a right answer to this question, even if he didn't know what it was. "I don't...I don't know what that is."

Her eyes went wide. She blinked once or twice before muttering, "Alright, well you're completely useless."

"He's a Muggleborn," Louis protested. "He just got here. What do you expect?" He once again glanced around his sister to Jack, this time looking apologetic. "Don't mind her. No manners and takes Quidditch far too seriously."

"You can't take it too seriously," she said, throwing her brother a look. "And sorry, but I have no patience for people who don't even know what it is."

"Why not offer to explain it to him instead of writing him off?"

She shook her head. "It's not my job to bring Muggleborns up to speed." She threw Jack a look that he could almost have taken as apologetic for a brief second. "That's on you."

* * *

**#3: Paper Towels**

"Mr. Weasley. Mr. Ians. Is something funny?"

They both immediately shook their heads, though were doing their best to hide the giggles they'd been trying to suppress after Madam Hooch had introduced herself during their first flying lesson. They knew it was coming; they knew her name, but for whatever the reason, both he and Louis caught each other's eyes and seemingly found something hilarious about this introduction. Their shared smile had quickly turned into silent giggles, which had turned into Jack biting his lip to keep himself from laughing outright. He'd been turning rather red when Hooch had stopped them.

"Because if you'd rather not learn how to fly…?"

Jack quickly shook his head; he was very interested in learning how to fly. It had been something he'd been looking forward to since the moment he'd read the bulletin posted in the common room telling them that first-years would have their first flying lesson today. Louis, however, didn't seem to care one way or the other; he'd already admitted to Jack that he was rubbish on a broom. It had been surprising to hear, considering Louis seemed to be good at everything else, but he clearly had already tried—and failed—to fly before. He was only here because he had to be.

"Sorry, maam," said Jack, straightening up immediately. From beside him, Louis continued to grin once Hooch had passed. Across from them—where Hooch had lined up another row of students—Dominique was glaring at the pair of them. Unlike her brother who didn't care much for flying, Jack had discovered she took it extremely seriously. Louis had mentioned she was really good; she seemed more than keen to show off in front of everyone.

In the weeks they'd been at school, he and Louis had instantly hit it off. From the night they'd met, there had just been a very friendly sort of draw toward Louis Weasley. He was funny, he was cool, he was wicked clever, and most of all he was patient—which Jack appreciated above all rest because he had questions. So many questions.

"Wait, what's a Squib and why were those fourth-years saying Filch was one?" Jack asked as he leaned against the sink basin in the boy's loo; charming balled up paper towels to levitate over the stall that Louis was currently occupying in the hopes of hitting him. They'd learned levitation charms days earlier and they were proving to be Jack's favorite piece of new knowledge at the moment. He and Louis would frequently send objects, quills, paper towels, and snacks at each other as part of some bizarre game they'd created.

"They're like Muggleborns, but in reverse," Louis said through the closed door as one of Jack's paper towels came soaring back over toward him, missing him by a foot. "They're born into magical families, but they aren't magic."

Jack stopped levitating then, his curiosity piqued. "So, what do they do?"

There was the flush of a toilet and Louis suddenly appeared. He walked over to the sink to wash up and inspect himself in the mirror. "They mostly become Muggles."

"Then why is Filch here?"

Louis shrugged. "No idea. I sort of wonder why he'd want to be. Most of his duties could be solved with a few charms and spells, but he does them by hand." He started to dry his hands. "I don't get it, but a lot of people are ashamed to be Squibs."

"Why?"

"Well, for some families it's not a big deal because they've got ties to both world's anyway—like you do," he said as he proceeded to toss his paper towel at Jack for good measure and to continue their game. "But for some—like these old school pureblood families—they wouldn't even know what to do with a Squib. They can get treated pretty poorly."

Jack seemed to think about that. "And when you say pureblood family, you mean like your family?"

Louis laughed a little. "Not exactly. I mean, yes to the pureblood part, but there are different kinds of pureblood families."

Louis had grown up in the wizarding world and was something like a hundredth-generation wizard. He was always good to explain the distinction between people—purebloods, half bloods, Muggleborns, Squibs—and how even just a few short years ago that had mattered a lot to some people. He'd told Jack all about the huge war that had happened in this very school, where his parents had fought and had been awarded medals of distinction, and that—and this explained why everyone recognized his last name—he had some uncles and aunts that were particularly involved in the downfall of some awful sounding nutter who was trying to rule the world. His one uncle was apparently the most famous wizard alive at the moment, though he claimed you'd never know it if you met the guy.

Louis answered all of Jack's questions—from big stuff about how giants, and werewolves, and trolls, and unicorns were suddenly real; to small stuff about what wizarding sweets were worth eating and what weren't. And when he wasn't helping Jack learn about his new surroundings, he was genuinely interested in asking how things worked in the Muggle world. He was a laugh, he was a good guy, and Jack was really happy to have met him on day one.

Back on the grounds of flying lessons, Louis whispered to Jack, "This will not end well," he said as he observed his broom. "I cannot tell you how rubbish I am at this."

Jack stared down at his own broom. He'd seen all the notices for Quidditch tryouts and that the first match was coming up soon, but he still didn't have much of a clue what any of it meant. He just wanted to be able to fly. Louis had given him the impression that some people were just naturals at it, while others had to really perfect their skills.

"Now," said Madam Hooch, who was walking up and down the row of students and brooms. "On my command, you will put your hand over your broom and say the word, 'Up.' Is that understood?"

A chorus of, "Yes, Madam Hooch," echoed back at her. Jack noticed across the way that Dominique already had her hand over her broom and seemed to be waiting rather eagerly for the command.

"On the count of three. One, two, three—"

Jack glanced over at Louis, who hadn't even raised his hand up to try. When he caught his eye, he said, "I already know it's not going to do it."

Jack laughed, seeing that most people were struggling to get the broom to come up. A few were making it wiggle, and a few had made it spring right up. Dominique was already holding her broom comfortably in her hand, almost like a trophy. A few spaces down, Griffin Giggleswick was as well. They seemed to be the only two at the moment.

"Up," Louis said to his broom in a mocking sort of way. "Up. Up. Up. Up. Up, you piece of rubbish." Nothing had happened. He shrugged and looked back at Jack. "Somethings never change."

Jack grinned, putting his hand over his own broom. It was worth a shot. "Up."

The handle of the broom came screaming into his hand; thwacking loudly against his palm. He blinked, genuinely feeling startled.

"Look at you," Louis said with a laugh. "Show off."

He'd wanted to ask if that was a good thing, but Hooch was already instructing them to mount their brooms and prepared to hover several feet above the ground. Half the class was bending over to pick up their brooms while the other half was either mounting awkward or already standing there in position and waiting for instruction.

Jack did as he was told as Hooch instructed them to kick off and see if they could get the broom off the ground. Several people, including Dominique, were doing this the second Hooch had finished speaking, though Jack was entirely sure what he was supposed to do. Did he just jump up? Did he tell the broom to do something?

"Put both hands there," Louis told him, pointing to a spot on the handle after having abandoned his own broom. "Then kick up. That's what Nic always does."

He did as he was told and immediately went up into the air, as if he were lighter than a feather. He gripped the broom for dear life, but he immediately felt as if this were the absolute greatest feeling the world. He was only maybe ten feet off the ground, but it felt like miles. He smiled and looked around. Down below, Louis was throwing him a thumbs up.

"If you've managed to get up there, you may now try and carefully push your broom forward," said Hooch. "Accelerate to a level you feel comfortable."

Immediately, three or four people took off with a bang—including Dominique. She was now flying circles around everyone, while others were simply trying to figure their brooms out. Jack pointed his broom down and was surprised at how quickly it pushed forward. It was quick, but not uncomfortably so; he could handle it.

After five minutes, he felt confident he could do a few circles. After ten, he was pushing his speeds and letting the wind move through his air. This was incredible. This was the single greatest feeling he'd ever felt in his life. He felt like the king of the world, high above it, speeding happily back and forth. He wanted to do this forever. He wanted to fly.

"Pretty good for a first try," said a voice, and when he turned he saw that Dominique had pulled up near him.

Dominique didn't talk to him much. If anything, she always seemed annoyed with him since she was clearly close with her brother, but since Louis and he were now friends and hanging out. Jack got the distinct impression she felt as if he was imposing on them. Louis always shrugged it off as his sister just being the way she was and not to worry about her. Jack had tried to engage her; he wanted to make friends in this strange new world, but she was never having it. Eye rolls and snippy comments were all he ever got out of her. This comment here was the first semi-nice thing she'd ever said to him.

"This is amazing," he said, turning a bit to face her since he wasn't quite sure how to stop like she was. "This is the best feeling in the world."

"It is," she agreed, showing a rare smile. "And it gets better if you keep at it. You should consider working on it. You could be good."

And with that, she flew away. Much faster, and much more in control that Jack could even dream of trying to be at the moment.

* * *

**Second Year**

* * *

**#4: Burn Eternally**

"I can't believe you want a bloody broom for Christmas," Jiffy muttered as he adjusted the tie that was tucked underneath his jumper. "We've got about three in the cupboard right now. Help yourself."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I've told you about a hundred times they're not the same thing." He glanced over at the clock, which read ten-thirty in the evening. "And I'm actually asking for money so I can buy a broom. I don't expect any of you to know how to buy a proper one."

"' _Any of you_ '," his brother mimicked. "Us non magic people, you mean? What's the word you use for us?"

"Muggles."

He started to laugh. "I'm starting to think someone's putting you on. You carry a stick around in your pocket. You consider a broom to be some sort of coveted object. You can't even show us a magic trick."

"They're not tricks," Jack muttered. "You sound like dad. And I don't carry my wand around at home because I'm not allowed magic outside of school until I'm of age."

"But you're allowed to fly around on a broom?"

"If I can get my hands on one, yeah," Jack said. He'd made his brother laugh just as their father came bustling into the room, also dressed up just as the boys were. He seemed to be in a hurry despite the fact that they had plenty of time. The church was only three streets over.

"Coats on, boys," said their father, still brushing his hair as he walked. "You know your mam likes to get to Mass early."

"Can't we skip midnight Mass just once," Jiffy asked, and Jack immediately knew that was a stupid question. Their mother would never, ever let that happen. His father's expression immediately said the same thing before he realized he'd forgotten his socks upstairs and disappeared to retrieve them.

"You'd think they would have reevaluated their views once they found out we had a bloody wizard in the family," Jiffy muttered as he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and immediately began texting someone.

Jack smirked. Back at home, wizard or not, it was right back to the standard routines of going to church every Sunday and attending Mass on Christmas Eve. He'd still to this day found himself surprised that his parents had let him go to wizarding school, all things considered. As Jiffy had pointed out, it did go against so much of what they believed in.

Magic and religion weren't exactly something that went hand in hand, but he assumed it had roots in the fact that they felt he was miserable at his school and wanted to have him try something new. They'd prioritized his happiness and well-being over their core beliefs, which he was grateful for. He did feel as though he belonged at Hogwarts, as if a large piece of the puzzle had been missing from his life until he'd gotten there. Had they refused, who knew where he'd be today? A lot less happier.

It was why he never complained when they forced him back to church when he was home, despite it not being something he much wanted to do. Jiffy felt similarly about not wanting to go, though he still lived at home and thus was forced far more often than Jack was. He was much more vocal about his lack of interest in all things church lately.

"I'm only saying that I'm sixteen now, and I should get a say whether I want to spend my Christmas Eve here or listening to Father Patrick drone on with the exact same Mass he's been giving since I was five," Jiffy argued once their father returned into the room.

"He's actually been giving it longer than that," said their father with a smirk, "you can only remember that far back."

Jiffy shook his head. "Jack gets to miss an entire nine months while he's at school and I can't miss one bloody night?"

"You cannot," said their father, his smile now turning more challenging. He looked to be daring Jiffy to push this further. "Drop it, Jif." He gestured to Jack. "Your brother doesn't mind."

"Because he only had to do this a few times a year!" he argued, also gesturing to Jack before rounding back on his father. "Aren't you the least bit concerned that according to everything you believe in, your youngest son is going to burn eternally in hell for being mixed up with the devil?"

Jack made a face. He felt he did a really good job separating his magic life from his Muggle life, but when you put it like that...

"And I mean, I'm not without sin myself," Jiffy continued, his mobile buzzing again and causing him to look down at it. "Just last weekend, I was doing things I really should be waiting for marriage for according to Father Patrick, so…"

"Well then, good, Jack will have company when he's burning eternally," joked their father, having grabbed coats for the lot of them and now shoving them against their chests to take. "You know how much this means to your mother. You're going to Mass. Drop it."

Jiffy groaned, but Jack grinned. Had their mother heard any of them saying this, they'd all be getting an earful right now about how that wasn't funny and that Hell should never be joked about. But his father wasn't nearly as religious as his mother. He was, however, routine. He'd grown up in the church system and he'd keep on as long as it was the norm; as long as someone was making him do it.

"Coats on," his father said, more firmly this time as they heard their mother coming down the stairs.

Both boys did as they were told, though as they clamored to pull their coats on, Jack whispered, "Who were you doing these premarital things with last weekend, then?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Jiffy said with a funny sort of grin as he tousled and messed up Jack's neatly brushed hair. "But you're still just a babe. Too young to be hearing the details of that sort of thing."

"No, I'm not. I'm thirteen now."

"Right," he said obviously. "You're still practically in nappies. You haven't even kissed a girl yet."

"How would you know?"

"Have you?"

He didn't say anything, which caused his brother to throw him a rather knowing look. He smacked him lightly on the cheek. "You'll get there one day, mate."

Jack wriggled away had been about to tell him where to go when his father suddenly called over, "And Jack, your magical stick thing—"

He sighed. "It's a wand."

"Yes, that. It had better be put away upstairs."

"It is," he said as he zipped up his coat, just as Jiffy added, "They're afraid it'll catch fire when you cross the threshold into the church. Send the whole of us into eternal damnation."

"Jif!" said their mother rather sternly as she emerged from upstairs in a Christmas dress she was sure to have bought just for the evening. Outside of the now cross look on her face aimed in Jiffy's direction, she really did look rather lovely.

"You look nice, Mam," Jack offered with a smile, causing Jif to look up from his mobile for a brief moment and offer a meager head nod in agreement.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said, smiling at him before inspecting both boys. "Jack, dear, did you brush your hair? And Jif, the mobile better be switched off during Mass. It's not as if everyone you know won't be there."

"Can I sit with them?" he asked.

"No, it's Christmas Eve and that's meant for family," she said, throwing him a tired look. "You can put the phone away for a few hours."

Jack laughed. "I don't think he can."

"Don't be smart," Jiffy muttered, reaching down to put his phone into the pocket of his coat. He stopped suddenly when he realized there was something inside, and pulled out the small, stuffed, yellow duck. He held it up to Jack, who was already grinning rather happily, having hidden it there hours ago. He snatched it from his brother's hand, though immediately lobbed it straight back at Jiffy's face. It bounced off his nose and fell to the floor.

"Duck," he said.

"You're an eejit."

Jack grinned. "Happy Christmas."

* * *

**#5: Left-Handed**

"I'm still not so sure about this," Jack had said as Louis walked him toward the wooded area near his house. There was apparently a clearing nearby that was ideal to fly in and practice Quidditch. Louis obviously never used it, but he'd talked it up to Jack as a place he could work on his ever growing flying skills. The problem was that Dominique had claimed it as her own, and had apparently given Louis a lot of grief for daring to think he could bring his friend to her spot.

Flying had become Jack's absolute favorite thing to do. He'd spent his entire first year going to every Open Pitch opportunity at school and practicing how to turn, and speed up, and stop. He wanted to get as good as some of the older kids he saw zooming around the pitch; he wanted to do what they were doing. He wanted to learn how to play Quidditch so that he could one day join the house team.

On top of flying, he'd become rather obsessed with Quidditch too; not only at Hogwarts, but also at the professional level. He'd thrown himself wholeheartedly behind his new favorite Quidditch team, the Ballycastle Bats, which were the closest to a hometown team that he was getting; he had hopes of seeing them in person one day hopefully soon. He wanted to learn everything about it; he wanted to learn how to play a position properly now that he had a broom that could actually allow him to stand a chance.

Because as of two days ago, that's what he now had. His very own broom. He'd taken the small amount of savings he'd put away, then done some extra chores around the house once he'd come home for the summer, and he had managed after a few weeks to pull together just enough money to get him a second-hand broom—an older Firebolt 350. It wasn't anything near the top of the line, but it was better than the beat up, old school brooms that had some serious wear and tear. He was thrilled with his new purchase...he just hadn't had a chance to use it yet.

"Do you want to fly or don't you?" Louis asked as they stepped into the woods. Jack noticed a well worn path in the ground below, presumably leading somewhere.

"I do," he muttered. "I just…" He lowered his voice, "...don't want to deal with…"

"She'll get over it," Louis said, referring to Dominique. "She has to, my parents said so. I have a right to use that clearing as much as she does, and you need a space to fly. I've talked to her about it. She'll be cool."

Being cool was not something Jack thought Dominique Weasley was capable of being. Being annoyed. Being dismissive. Being judgy...those were all things he could see her being. But not cool. She'd never shown signs of being cool with anything that didn't go exactly her way.

He wasn't necessarily looking to be friends with Dominique—she certainly showed no interest in being friends with him—but he had assumed that when he'd started showing more of an interest in flying and Quidditch, she would have warmed up to him a bit and, maybe, been a bit nicer. No one else in Gryffindor in their year cared much; she barely talked to anyone in the other houses and years, choosing instead to usually be off on her own when she wasn't talking to Louis. Jack had hoped she could help him with some tips and questions he had, but she apparently saw his lack of experience and inquisitive nature annoying. She claimed not to have the time to teach him; as far as Jack could tell, she had loads of time.

He would have never dreamed of asking to use her flying spot to work on his skills, but Louis had it in his head that she would come around if forced to deal with it head on. "She can't ignore helping you if you're right there," he'd told Jack after suggesting it, and "She knows everything there is to know about Quidditch. She'll be able to help you."

Jack had learned over the last few months that Louis was a problem solver. If there were answers to be found—which for him were usually in books—he would simply go and find them there. In this case, the answers were apparently inside of his sister's head. He was going to get them out of her in order to help him, Jack, if it killed him. It didn't seem to bother him that Jack was the one feeling extremely awkward in this situation.

They'd reached the clearing then, which was larger than Jack had expected it to be—about the third the size of the Quidditch arena. Someone had evidently come in and chopped some trees down and helped expand it in size, though all Jack could now focus on was the sight of a small girl with her blonde hair piled messily on top of her head suddenly landing about thirty yards away. He could already tell her expression was annoyed.

"What position do you even want to play?" she asked, having started marching toward the pair of them, though her eyes were on him.

"Not Seeker," Louis said quickly. "I've already told him he cannot be a Seeker or you'll murder him. Doesn't want to be a Seeker."

Jack immediately nodded. Louis had told him, at length, that if he even dreamed of being a Seeker—even looked slightly interested in being a Seeker—then there was nothing he could do to help him. Dominique had wanted to be the Seeker for Gryffindor for as long as he could remember. She'd always wanted to be a Seeker, and it was apparently some sort of family tradition since her uncles had been Seekers for Gryffindor. If she thought Jack was some sort of competition, he could kiss using the clearing, and any sort of help or guidance, goodbye.

Jack had agreed, mostly because he didn't know what he wanted to be, so ruling out Seeker from the start seemed easy enough. Even if he didn't want to use their flying space, he wasn't sure he'd feel comfortable coming up against Dominique when she wanted something. She was kind of scary.

"So, what position?" she asked impatiently, now staring at him.

"I…" He shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I know them all, but I don't really fancy one more than the others." He paused before adding. "Not Seeker, though."

"Not Seeker." Louis smirked.

She was staring at him now rather intently, as if examining him. He threw Louis a sideways glance, though Louis did nothing more shrug. He was starting to feel weird with all the silent staring.

"If I were you," she said. "I'd keep toward Keeper or Beater. You look like you'd fit those. Especially if you get some height on you one day. Are your parents tall? How tall is your father?"

What...? What did that have to do with anything?

"She takes this all very seriously," Louis said. "But she knows her stuff." He looked back at Dominique. "They're average, I'd say. His dad's not tall, but he's not short either."

She was nodding then, and Jack still didn't understand what the hell his father's height had to do with what Quidditch position he should be playing. She, however, seemed to have a plan now cooked up.

"Definitely one of those two, then. But the problem with being a Keeper is that Gryffindor picked up a Keeper this year. That Adams bloke. And he's only just going into his fourth-year, so that means you've got a few years before that spot's open. You could challenge him for the spot, but that's not particularly cool. That means you wouldn't be able to try out until…" She stopped to think.

"Sixth-year," Louis offered.

Jack shook his head. He wanted to try out sooner than that. "No, that's too long. What spots are opening up soon?"

"Nothing this year," she said. "No one's graduated and they probably won't even hold tryouts. I don't even think they need alternates. But the year after—our third year—they're going to need a Seeker, a Beater, and a Chaser. Almost half the team will be gone."

"And you think I should try to be a Beater over a Chaser?"

"Can you swing a bat while flying?"

He shrugged. "I've never tried."

Her face turned very obvious. "Then we need to answer that question first."

It turned out that Dominique was a bit of a hoarder when it came to Quidditch junk. He specifically avoided the world 'supplies' since a lot of the stuff that she had inside of this old wooden chest was rubbish. Broken bits and bobs, deflated Quaffles, rusted bristle scissors. It was by no means state of the art equipment, but she had managed to pull out a set of old Beater bats that apparently had belonged to some of her uncles who had been Beaters. Apparently, unlike the uncles who had been Seekers, she didn't want to chase their old position. That was one that was fully up for grabs.

She handed him the bat and he took it, swinging it around a little because he wasn't sure what else to do with it. He'd watched Beaters during the school matches, and they flew one-handed. He'd have to figure out how to swing and fly at the same time if he was going to try and be a—

"Are you left-handed?" she asked

He was...was that a bad thing? He looked down at his left hand as it gripped the bat, now feeling self-conscious. Maybe you had to be right-handed to be a proper be a Beater? Though, if you did, that wasn't a deal breaker. He'd spent his entire life having to learn to use his right-hand because he could rarely find left-handed equipment. Outside of writing and eating, he could teach himself to do anything with his right hand.

He started to nod. "But if it matters, I can still use my right hand well enough. I use both for almost everything else." He switched hands and suddenly started swinging it around with his right hand. It felt comfortable enough. "Which one is better?"

She grinned at him before looking over at Louis. He was grinning back at her, though Jack didn't have the slightest idea why they were both so smiley. Was this a good thing?

"Both is better," she said finally, looking rather excited.

"It really is," Louis said. "Even I know that."

"Some of the best Beaters to ever play the game could use both hands," Dominique said as she approached him now. He'd never seen her so...engaged. She was now running through the names of Beaters who she knew—off the top of her head—were ambidextrous and how well they'd done for their teams. She was a walking stat book for Quidditch, and she was immediately now attempting to show him how he should properly grip the bat.

"Beating is probably my weakest area," she said, causing Jack to blink seeing as she sounded pretty bloody knowledgeable in the last five minutes she'd been talking. "But I can help you work out the basics. If you get any good, you'll need a better bat."

He looked down at the older bat in his hand. He'd just spent all of his money on his new broom. He couldn't afford something else right now.

"But that one's fine for now," she added, seemingly reading his mind. "Keep it. I have no use for it."

"Really?" he asked. Minutes ago she barely spoke to him and now she was giving him a bat to keep.

She nodded at him as if it were no big deal. "Now, get on your broom and let's see what you can do."

As it turned out, Beating came rather naturally to him. He wasn't so used to flying that he could switch his habits up to learn how to do it one-handed, and he apparently could hit the tennis balls they threw at him much harder than Dominique thought he would. He needed to work on his aim, but everything else seemed to fall mostly into place.

He apparently had a year to get everything in place now that the next trials wouldn't be until the start of their third-year, which meant he had time if he dedicated his free time to trying to hit moving targets while flying on a broom himself. That was pretty much exactly what he did all that summer—come to the Weasleys, visit the clearing, fly around for a few hours with Dominique correcting his form and attempting to trip him up, and working tirelessly to become good enough to make the team as soon as he could.

By the end of that summer, Jack had not only gotten better in all ways Quidditch and flying, but he'd also at least risen a few rungs on Dominique's ladder of annoyance. If everyone other than Louis was at the bottom, Jack felt he'd at least climbed a rung or two upwards. They weren't friends—they still rarely spoke outside of that clearing or about anything that wasn't Quidditch related—but she definitely didn't completely dismiss him like she once did.

As he overheard her telling Louis after a week of their flying, "He's alright. At least you've brought around one with some use."

* * *

**#6: Non-Favorite**

Jack flipped over onto his stomach inside of the sleeping bad he was currently tucked into. In the bed beside him, Louis, was snoring rhythmically as the early August morning sunlight started creeping across the room through the window. Louis would probably be out for at least another couple of hours—he always slept in, which he claimed had to do with some potion he took before bed to prevent nightmares. He apparently had really bad ones.

The problem was, Jack never slept late. He was usually up around six of seven—maybe eight if he was having a lie in. His entire family had always been earlier risers, and seeing as the house was never quiet enough to sleep through the noise, he'd just gotten used to it over time. But Louis did not rise early, which often made the mornings after Jack would sleepover feel rather endless.

He'd already read through two Quidditch magazines he had the good sense to ask Dominique to borrow the night before, knowing he'd be in this predicament. He'd even brought _Quidditch Through the Ages_ over in order to continue to immerse himself in the sport he was quickly growing more and more obsessed with by the day. He'd already read it cover to cover over the course of his first and second year at Hogwarts, but it was summer now and he'd felt it was probably worth a third reread since he was now heavily invested in getting good enough to tryout for the Gryffindor house team in the fall.

He let his head rest face down on the pillow for a moment, wondering when the rest of the house would get up. Or perhaps not the rest of the house, but from one particular person. He picked up his head and looked over at Louis' partially opened bedroom door, which was just within arm's reach of him. He always set up his sleeping bag here—just far enough away from the door to avoid getting hit in the event someone swung it open, but also close enough that he could…

He pulled himself up onto his elbows and reached out to the door, pulling it open more to make the small crack become more of a large gap. It was here he had a perfect view of the hallway, where the bathroom resided to the left of Louis' room, Dominique's room stood just beyond on the right, and their older sister, Victoire's, room was on the opposite end of the hallway.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around his pillow; resting his chin then on top of it. Now he played the waiting game.

Every creak of the house, every noise downstairs of Louis' parents clearly starting their day, everything that wasn't Louis snoring made him take notice. Ten minutes ticked by. Fifteen. Twenty. It was a quarter after nine now and he'd rolled onto his back, about to reread the same Quidditch magazine again when the sound he'd been actually waiting for finally occurred. He immediately looked backwards, his head upside down on his pillow, into the hallways and saw Dominique had emerged from her room looking sleepy and walking with a purpose toward the bathroom.

She spotted him at once and stopped to stare at him.

"Morning," he said with an awkward, upside down smile.

She laughed a little to herself. "How long have you been waiting this time?"

"Couple of hours. Finished both of those magazines you let me borrow." He flipped back around on his stomach to look at her properly. "So...?"

She was shaking her head in a half amused sort of way. She already knew what was coming. They'd had this exchange almost every time he slept over.

"...you want to go and fly?"

She pointed to the bathroom. "Can I have a wee first?"

He shrugged and nodded. That seemed only fair. She'd gone into the bathroom and he pulled himself out of the sleeping bag to go about changing into actual clothes. He'd just managed to pull his trainers on when she emerged to find him standing there ready to go.

"You're eager."

"I'm just really keen to get on my broom. It's been a few days."

"You know you don't have to wait for me to go out to the clearing," she said as she walked back to her room. "You can just go."

He shrugged as she disappeared into her room. He actually didn't know that. It felt rather weird to be out there without her or Louis there. When she emerged dressed and ready a few minutes later, she gestured toward the stairs and he proceeded to follow her down. Her mother was in the kitchen reading the newspaper, and glanced up at the two of them standing in the foyer. Dominique was already half obscured in a nearby closet, pulling Jack's broom out for him. He'd started leaving it here during the summer since it really had no place back at home.

"Morning," said her mother, Fleur. "Up early to fly?"

Jack smiled and nodded at her, though Dominique mumbled something along the lines of, "Obviously, Mum. What else would we be doing with brooms in our hands?"

Jack inhaled a little slowly as her mother's eyes had narrowed on her. "I'm not a fan of your attitude lately, Dominique. I suggest you fix it before your flying time becomes increasingly limited." She smiled at Jack. "You should probably eat something before you—"

"We'll eat when we get back," Dominique protested, despite the fact that Jack actually would have been happy to have gotten something in his stomach. He smiled a little apologetically at Fleur as Dominique suddenly turned and opened the front door, taking off out the front.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what to do, since he felt rude just following after her—especially given the exhausted look on her mother's face—but standing here exchanging looks with Dominique's mother also didn't seem normal. He finally offered a polite sounding, "See you," to her before trekking off after Dominique.

Once he'd caught up to her—she hadn't waited for him—she was already launching into a bit of a tirade. "She's been so annoying lately. Harping on my," she made her voice sound snarky, "'attitude' and asking so many bloody questions."

Jack didn't say anything. He hadn't thought any of the questions Fleur had asked were that bad. In fact, he thought Dominique was overreacting, but he wasn't about to tell her that. It would be a very long hour of flying around if he told her that.

"I wish she'd leave me alone," Dominique muttered as they walked toward the woods. "Are your parents annoying, too?"

This very well may have been the very first non-Quidditch, Louis, or schoolwork question she'd ever asked him. He simply shrugged. "Um, they can be, but I get on really well with my folks. My brother has more issues with them than I do, but he's a bit of a rebel. Cuts school, stays out too late, gets into a bit of trouble. I...don't do any of that."

"Yeah, you're clearly the good one," Dominique muttered. "Just like Louis and Vic. Polite, nice, does everything you're supposed to. You're probably the favorite."

"I wouldn't say that," he said, having never really thought about that before. His parents had always treated him and Jiffy the same growing up, but things had changed slightly. He did get a lot of attention when he was home now, but he'd assumed that was because he spent most of the year away and so his parents were making up for lost time. They'd never had favorites between the two of them, though given the way Jif was acting out lately, maybe that had shifted.

"I bet your brother would," Dominique said. "Take it from one non-favorite to another."

He was shaking his head, not at all sure where any of this was coming from, especially considering the source. "My parents don't have favorites. They treat me and Jiffy the same."

Dominique threw him a look. "Wait, what do you call your brother?"

"Jiffy...Jif," he said, immediately realizing how strange it sounded to people who didn't know him. Then again, the Wizarding World had its fair share of awkward names, so he wasn't entirely sure why that one had caught her attention.

She suddenly laughed as if that was very funny for some reason. "Is that his actual name?"

"Not his real one, no," Jack said. "His actual name is John—John Francis—like my dad. They have the same name. When he was little, everyone started calling him J.F. His initials. When you say J.F. fast it sounds like Jif. That's what stuck and that's what he goes by, though I always called him Jiffy. No one else does."

She was still smirking at him as if that was all very humorous. "Do you have some strange nickname that Muggles call you that we don't know about?"

He shook his head. "I've always just been Jack."

She laughed as she breezed past him now, apparently ready to commence with the flying and leave her annoyance with her mother behind. "Shame. That would have made you more interesting."


	2. Third Year

**Third Year**

* * *

**#7: Teammates**

"You did well," Dominique said to him as he sat beside her on the damp, green grass of the Quidditch pitch. It had been raining all morning, and Jack had been afraid it would continue during his trail. Luckily, there'd been a break in the clouds and he'd got through his without issue.

He nodded absently, still not sure if he'd done well enough. Eight people had come out to try out for the vacant Beater spot on the Quidditch team, and he was the youngest. He wasn't the smallest—he was the same size as the both the fourth-year and the two fifth-years that had come out—but the sixth and seventh-years were a good head taller than him. And bigger. And stronger.

"Your aim was spot on," Dominique continued, having finished her trial already since the Seekers had been called first. She'd been phenomenal; better than Jack had ever seen her play during the hours they'd spent in the woods by her house. About fifteen people had tried out to be Seeker—many of them also trying out for the vacant Chaser spot as well—but Dominique had out flown all of them. She'd caught the Snitch quickly, too, and Jack couldn't see how she wasn't a shoo-in for the spot. Unlike him, being the youngest and smallest seemed to work to her advantage. Seekers were supposed to be smaller.

But Beaters were supposed to be bigger, and Jack certainly wasn't that. It wasn't that he was small, but he couldn't compare to those sixth and seventh-years. The other Beater on the team, a sixth-year called Rolly—was easily fourteen stone and six feet tall. Jack was four of five stones lighter and a good four or five inches shorter.

Then there was the question of was Durrin Adams—the new captain—really going to take a chance on two third-years? Dominique was as good as the new Seeker already, which may have been all the risk Adams was willing to take on someone young. That, plus to Jack being smaller and younger than the other, made it seem unlikely he'd be chosen.

"Seriously, Jack," Dominique said, showing a rare encouraging, almost softer, side. "You were the best one out there. No one else hit their targets as well as you did."

"They're all so much bigger," he muttered, glancing over to see Durrin currently speaking to some of the other members of the Gryffindor team. The two female Chasers were a seventh and a sixth-year. Rolly, also in his sixth. Durrin, a fifth-year. Jack immediately saw it as another strike against him. They were all older—they were probably going to pick their older friends.

"What good is bigger if they can't hit a bloody Bludger where it needs to go?" Dominique said. "You were the best. You deserve the spot."

"They're probably going to pick someone they know since they're all older."

"They'd be stupid to," Dominique said, glancing over to watch the little team conference currently happening. "Durrin will just be constantly holding tryouts year after year because you'll be turning over players." She looked back at Jack. "And I'm sorry, but if you can't make the team until your seventh-year, you're not very good. Where were you two or three years ago?"

He cracked a smile. He wanted to believe that.

"There's a reason Durrin got made captain over the others," Dominique said. "He's the youngest. Someone wanted to give him time to build a team. And in order to build a team, you need to give them some time to—"

She'd stopped once the group had broken apart and Durrin was now stepping forward to address the twenty-five or so people that were currently scattered around the pitch, awaiting his announcement. Everyone was watching him, but Jack found himself turning to look at Rolly. He'd been glancing over in his direction, though he'd turned back to Durrin once they'd made eye contact.

"Rolly was just looking at me," Jack said in a low whisper to Dominique.

"Probably because you're his new Beating partner and he's trying to see what he's got to work with," she whispered back, but she just as quickly shushed him because Durrin was now thanking everyone for turning up.

"It was a hard decision," Durrin was saying, a lazy smile playing on his face that Jack noticed always seemed to be present. He seemed like a rather laid-back, relaxed sort of bloke; always game for a laugh or a joke. He'd probably be a cool captain to play under. "But, I've ultimately chosen three new players—which is quite a bit. Some would call this a rebuilding year, but I'm hoping with these three people that we can achieve more than that. With that said…" He glanced down at his clipboard. "For the Seeker…"

Jack glanced at Dominique, whose gaze was lasered in on Durrin. He'd wanted to tell her good luck, but that seemed stupid now that the announcement was seconds away. She'd probably tell him to shut up.

"Don't think this was much of a surprise since she's fast as hell, but it's going to be Dominique Weasley."

There was a light applause, and while no one looked surprised a few people did look disappointed. Dominique, however, was grinning ear to ear. Jack had never seen her smile like that before. It actually made him smile, too.

"Nice. Congratulations," Jack offered her.

"Thanks," she said rather coolly, as if she were attempting to be less excited than she was. She was still grinning her enormous grin. "You'll be next."

He shrugged and tried not to get his hopes up, listening as Durrin announced that Devon Whimbley—a fourth-year—was to be the newest Chaser. More applause and an echo of disappointed sighs followed; Dominique was making a bit of a face.

"Him? Really?"

Jack was barely listening, because it was then that Durrin announced that last, but not least, he'd come around on their next Beater. Jack glanced over and saw that once again, Rolly seemed to be looking at him. That had to be a really good indication that it was going to be him, right? Why else would he…?

"Jack Ians," said Durrin, smiling over at him. There was still polite applause, but a definite confused energy mixed in with it. He felt he distinctly heard someone say, "Him?" but he almost didn't care. He'd just made the bloody Quidditch team.

He smiled, immediately turning to look at Dominique, who was smirking in a very " _told you so"_ sort of way. He let out a laugh, which prompted Dominique to offer him a congratulation, along with a few of the other people sitting around him. He'd done it. He'd actually done it. The hours and hours and hours he'd spent flying over the summer had paid off. He'd gone from not even knowing what Quidditch was two years ago to making the team. Shit, he was a Beater now.

He and Dominique and the other new kid, Devon, all had to hang back after everyone else had cleared the pitch. They got introduced to the rest of the team and Durrin started laying out his expectations for the year. He was being serious when he'd said while he knew it was rebuilding year, he expected things to turn into more. "This is a good group," he added. "Young talent is what we need. The other teams won't know what hit them."

Rolly had been hard to read when Jack managed a few quick words with him. He seemed to acknowledge that he'd been accurate as hell and could hit harder than he'd anticipated a third-year doing, he still didn't seem entirely sold on the idea of a third-year Beating partner. Jack was clearly going to have to show him what he was capable of.

On the walk back to the castle, after Durrin had set them up with their first training session starting next week, he and Dominique were practically bouncing up the path. He felt as if he was the king of the world, and given Dominique's excited energy, she seemed to feel similarly. She'd been doing a really good job of pretending to care less than she actually had back on the pitch, but now that it was just the two of them, she was letting more slip out.

"We both made it!" she said happily. "Both of us. We're both on the team!"

"I can't believe it," he said, grinning over at her. "It's you I should thank."

She waved him off. "You did all the hard work. I don't think I've ever seen anyone turn around from average to decent as fast as you. You came a really long way over the summer, Jack."

"Yeah, but you let me fly with you; let me use your space. If it hadn't been for that—"

"No thanks needed," she said. "Let's just celebrate that we both made the team and that we're going to be playing Quidditch for Gryffindor!" She released a happy sigh. "This is the absolute best way to start out our third-year."

He laughed and she laughed as well. For the first time ever, he felt that they may be able to be actual friends and not just two people who shared a Quidditch pitch and offered flying suggestions to each other. Now that they'd both made the Quidditch team—the youngest ones—they'd have to stick together. That's what teammates do.

* * *

**#8: Boring**

"Who wrote it?" asked Mike Ellison as he and another Hufflepuff boy, Liam Pepperdine, stood across from Louis, Flynn, and Jack as they all attempted to work on their shared tray of Puffapods in Herbology. But the Puffapods were the least of their concern right now, seeing as Flynn had presented them all with a piece of parchment he'd found after breakfast in the Great Hall that morning titled, "Fit Boys List."

Someone—presumably a girl given the nature of the list and the rounded, neat handwriting—had apparently taken the time to list all the boys in their year and rated them according to their attractiveness. There were notes in the margins and comments in a different handwriting, so apparently more than one girl had been in on this.

It currently had the group of them rather obsessed.

"I found it between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables on the floor," Flynn said, "so one of them definitely dropped it, but it doesn't mean one of them wrote it. There's a few different handwritings on it. They could all be passing it around."

Concern washed over everyone's faces at the idea of every girl in their year having some secret meeting about all of the boys. Well, everyone's face but Louis'. He didn't seem to care much at all, and instead was focusing on de-beaning his Puffapod rather intently.

While it was normal for Louis to be focusing harder than anyone else on his school work, Jack chose to believe that in this instance Louis didn't care because he'd gotten the highest ranking out of everyone on the list at a nine. The comments around his name had been glowing, "So cute," "Nicest eyes," "Great smile." Someone had simply drawn little hearts around his name.

"I bet it was the Ravenclaws. You know, Kiera and her friends?" Liam said. "Marlowe, and Lira, and Eleanor. I can see them doing something like this. It would explain why Louis' so high if Kiera's in charge."

That was true; it would explain things since Kiera was Louis'...girlfriend? It seemed like a strange word to use because the entire idea of it all seemed so new. None of them had girlfriends yet or had thought much about the idea of dating. They'd barely considered girls as anything more than the people they lived with or shared classes with. That wasn't to say that Jack didn't think some of them were really pretty, or that they smelled good, or that they had nice hair...but they were like animals at the zoo. You observed them and then you moved on. You didn't...do anything about it.

But Louis had done something about it. The only boy in their year that had; thus moving him into the big leagues. Kiera Khan, a pretty, but sort of stuck-up Ravenclaw girl had been blatantly—and rather vocally—letting everyone know how much she fancied Louis since the start of third-year. She would stop him constantly to talk to him; always put herself in his line of sight in classes, the library, or at meals. She was over the top in her flirting; while Louis seemed to ignore it at first—he'd told Jack she was pretty, but sort of pushy—he'd eventually relented for one reason or another and come around on her.

She'd asked him to Hogsmeade two weeks ago and he'd said yes. It had been a group sort of date, with her friends and his, though they must have snuck off together at some point, because Louis reported to Jack and Flynn later that evening that she'd kissed him near Honeydukes—thus making him the first of any of them to snog a girl. That kiss had apparently meant they were now a couple, despite the fact that they didn't see each other much and, maybe, held hands in the corridors when they had the chance.

Still, to the rest of them in third-year, they may as well have been the real deal in their actual, committed relationship. Louis was practically a grown man now. It was a badge of honor.

"Kiera wouldn't do that," Louis mumbled, never taking his eyes off his Puffapod that he was still working on.

Everyone at that table threw him a doubtful look, even though he wasn't paying attention. Kiera wouldn't do that? That seemed exactly the sort of thing Kiera would do. If someone were to do a list of the girls in their year, "shallow" and "snobby" would probably be written next to her name. Though, to be fair, she'd probably also get "pretty" and "shiny hair." Either way, obviously Louis was going to defend her.

"I mean," Jack said, speaking up for the first time. "It may not be her. If we think it's her only because it's got Louis ranked so high, that's not really open and shut, is it? Plenty of girls fancy Louis."

Everyone—but Louis—around the table nodded rather lamely. Louis, in turn, now apparently had selected deafness, as he often did when the topic of his popularity with girls came up. It was true, though. It honestly felt as though every girl in this bloody school fancied him. Kiera was just the loudest about it, but that didn't mean plenty of others didn't have their own ways of letting him know.

Jack had it on good authority from Dominique that her roommate, Natalie Young, was also madly in love with him, though far more quiet in her attempts. Lira Chin—Kiera's friend—apparently had a huge crush on him, but she'd been forced to put those feelings in check due to Kiera. There were rumors that Ellibit Collins, Catherine Rainer, Diana Crawley, and Zara Zabini—just to name a few—also thought he was especially cute; though Jack knew that if there was any truth to that Zara rumor that Kiera would be yesterday's news. He could tell by the way Louis acted around Zara in Potions that he was genuinely keen on her.

And those were just some of the girls in their year. There was a gaggle of fourth-year girls who were always smiling and giggling when he was around. Many of the girls in second-year were practically infatuated with him, and Jack knew of at least one fifth-year girl who apparently had no problem with a boy two years her junior because she didn't even pretend to hide the fact she went all moon-eyed when he was around.

Louis didn't seem to care much at all. He was amused by the attention, and he always seemed flattered with some of the more forthright girls, but before Kiera came along—and outside of his harmlessly flirty conversations with Zara—he barely paid attention. He was always more invested in his school work.

That was why this girlfriend thing had come as a bit of a shock to even Jack. It was one thing when the girls were throwing themselves at Louis and he couldn't be bothered to care; then he and Louis and the others were all on the same, inexperienced page. Now that he was actually making moves and deciding to venture into the world of actual dating, it sort of felt like there was pressure being put on the rest of them. And if Jack were being honest, he wasn't sure he was ready for that yet. Soon maybe, but not yet.

It wasn't that he didn't fancy anyone—he did sometimes. Like when Sarah and him had been forced to practice Stunning Spells against each other last week, and even though she'd put him on his arse a few times, he couldn't help but get this random swooping feeling in his stomach when she laughed—mostly at him when he'd been on his arse, though it had been good natured and not malicious. She had a nice laugh.

Then yesterday, a really pretty sixth-year Slytherin girl had bumped into him in the corridor and knocked the books he'd been carrying out of his hands onto the floor. Same swooping feeling when she'd helped pick them up and apologized with a kind smile. Martha Ayers, another sixth-year, who was a Chaser on the Quidditch team, had playfully put her arm around him to congratulate him on a good hit after the Hufflepuff match—another swoop. Even Dominique, who'd tackled him during Quidditch practice for reasons he didn't understand, but she'd found it really funny, had caused a very minor swoop. That one passed quickly though, because she'd also punched him on the arm once he was on the ground and it had hurt like hell.

None of the feelings were overwhelming or even close to being real feelings for anyone, but if this was starting now, it was bound to get stronger. Even he knew that, but he was still terrified of what he was supposed to do with it.

"I can't believe I only got a five," Liam muttered, having pulled out the ranking list once Longbottom disappeared back up toward the front of the room to help a group of girls who'd dropped a Puffapod on the ground.

"Better than the three I got," Flynn said glumly. "Whoever wrote that doesn't like me much."

"I'm right in the middle with my four," Mike muttered, looking over Liam's shoulder to read it. "Which isn't much better. Someone wrote 'too brainy.'" He pulled a face. "Louis gets better marks than I do, but no one's saying that about him."

"You get better marks in Potions than I do," Louis offered, still paying attention to his pods.

"One subject," Mike muttered. "My point still stands."

Jack smirked, but said nothing. Louis did overall get better marks, but he could see what the person who'd written that meant. Louis—as clever as he was—didn't come off as a know-it-all, brain. He was mostly quiet about what he knew unless prompted by a professor; it almost came off as a surprise when Louis would get perfect marks on an essay because he always downplayed it. He never said anything unless you asked him. Mike, on the other hand, was very much the type to raise his hand and explain everything he knew—especially when it came to Potions, where he was something of a genius. He did come off a bit brainy.

"No one other than Louis got higher than a six," Liam continued. "And only Reggie Avery and Caleb Gilmore got a sixes. Everyone else is five or lower."

Jack glanced over at the list, which he'd already seen and read twice since Flynn had acquired it. He'd been given a five, which he'd definitely found a bit disheartening. He knew it could have been worse, especially when someone like Flynn had comments like, "Crooked teeth" and "Talks too much" next to his name. But Jack had "Too quiet" and "Sort of Boring" next to him, which, honestly, had felt like a punch to the gut. Boring? Was he boring?

"Can we stop talking about this list," Louis said, finally speaking up. "It's stupid, alright? Just some bored girls being dumb."

He then chose that moment to raise his hand and get Longbottom's attention. Louis had finished the assignment while the rest of them were talking. Once Longbottom had strolled over, he had nothing but compliments for him on how nice his beans looked and how well he'd done—also how quickly he'd done it. It had taken almost everyone else the remaining twenty minutes of class to finish, and Jack knew for a fact that his beans didn't look nearly as nice as Louis'.

As they finished cleaning up and the bell rang, Liam could distinctly be heard muttering, "I just want to know who wrote it so that I can see how perfect they are. Because I bet I could come up with some things to say about the girls around here too if this list was reversed."

Flynn and Mike were nodding, and Jack could tell they were about five seconds away from planning a revenge list, but that was when Louis reached over and plucked the list out of Liam's hand; now crumbling it up. "You're all obsessed. Get over it."

"Easy for you to say," Flynn muttered. "You got a bloody nine."

The Hufflepuffs had to go one way, while the Gyffindors went the other. A few steps ahead, Dominique had stopped to wait—presumably for Louis. She'd apparently seen his paper crumbling display and was now looking curious.

"Get over what?" she asked.

"Nothing," Louis muttered, though his 'nothing' was quickly drowned out by Flynn saying, "Wait, maybe you know." He grabbed the ball from Louis and began flattening it out for her to see. "Do you know who wrote this?"

Dominique took it as Louis sighed loudly and continued walking on ahead, as if he could no longer be bothered with this for even a second more. Jack knew he should probably follow suit, but he couldn't help but wonder who was behind it and whether Dominique knew anything.

She was silently reading it over now; Louis was a good ten feet ahead of them up the stairs while Jack and Flynn walked beside her. Jack knew one thing—Dominique wouldn't be the one behind it. She couldn't be bothered with boys and seemed to want anything to do with the topic of them. She did have friends who were though, and they talked. She easily could have overheard something.

"Where did you get this?" she asked.

"Found it on the floor in the Great Hall," Flynn said.

She laughed all of the sudden. "A nine..." She looked up ahead to where her brother continued to walk off. "Well, isn't he special?"

"He's the only one," Flynn muttered.

"Yeah, seems the rest of you didn't get such great feedback," she said, still finding it all very amusing. "Whoever did this, they really went in on Upton Wallace. And Griffin Giggleswick didn't fare too well either. 'Rat-faced.'" She smirked. "He's a git, so I'm not going to argue it."

"Apparently, I talk too much and have crooked teeth," Flynn said.

"I mean…" Dominique said in a very open-ended manner, as if to say she couldn't argue that either. It caused Flynn to glare at her, which made her causally shrug him off.

"Do you know who wrote it or not?" he snapped.

She shook her head. "Nope." She folded it back up and held it out for Flynn to take. "But thanks for the laugh."

Flynn snatched it away from her and muttered, "Thanks for nothing," before he sped off ahead of them. He'd obviously had enough of Dominique with that single conversation, which was par for the course with the two of them.

Dominique laughed as they started climbing the stairs. "Why does he even care? It's one person's opinion."

"Looks like there are a few different handwritings on there," Jack offered.

"Yes, but one person made it," she said. "A couple of people added those dumb notes, but those rankings were all hers."

He stared at her. "You said you didn't know who wrote it."

"I lied." She shrugged. "What do I owe Flynn? I know for a fact the person who wrote it never meant for it to be seen. She's going to be mortified that it was, but…" She made a fairly satisfied looking face. "That's what she gets. She's an idiot."

They walked in silence up the first flight of stairs. Jack must have had a very telling expression on his face because when Dominique cast him a sideways glance, she seemed to focus on that. "Wait, you're not letting that stupid list bother you too, are you?"

"No," Jack said almost too quickly. "I don't care."

"You do care," she said. "I can see that you care. Why do you care?"

"I don't care," Jack argued.

"Why do any of you care?" Dominique said. "Fuck everyone else. You pick and choose who you let affect you, don't let anonymous strangers do it."

"I don't care," Jack repeated.

"So, you don't care that they called you quiet and boring?"

His eyes shot to hers. She'd recalled that rather quickly. "Did you memorize the list or something? Are you sure you didn't write it?"

She laughed at that; she found that genuinely funny, as if she'd never heard something so absurd. "I'd admit it if I wrote it. I would tell you to your face that I think you're quiet and boring."

He felt his face fall a little. For whatever reason, having that reiterated to him from an actual person's mouth stung a lot worse than reading it on a list.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," she said, clearly having read his reaction. "Look, I didn't mean...I mean, I did, because you are. You're very quiet, you know that. And as for boring, I don't think you're boring in a bad way. You're just…"

"Boring in a good way?" Where exactly was she going to take this? He really wanted to hear how she was trying spin this as not being an insult.

"It's more that you're predictable," she said. "What you see is what you get." She shrugged. "When you add in how quiet you are, I can see how people would find you boring. But if you ask me, it's not a bad thing."

He made a face. "How is that not a bad thing? Being boring is a bad thing."

"It's a hell of a lot better than some of the other comments people got," she argued. "If you wanted, you could flip your boring, quiet thing into some sort of mysterious vibe. No one's going to ever call someone loud and obnoxious like Flynn mysterious. He's just a prat. You can work with yours."

Jack laughed a little humorlessly, now feeling worse after this conversation than he had before. And he hadn't been feeling that great earlier.

"Uggg," Dominique groaned after seeing his face. "Look, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, I'm just trying to explain what I've heard girls say about you. They also say you're really nice, but…" She threw him a sympathetic look, "nice is also sort of boring."

He looked away. Terrific. He was apparently nice, boring, and quiet . What a joke. He was apparently a joke.

"You really shouldn't let this stuff bother you," she said.

He looked at her as if she had two heads. How was this not supposed to bother him? He'd been hoping to one day—one day in the near future—to start actually talking to girls and dating. Louis was already doing it, and while he seemed advanced, Jack had assumed he would come around in the next year or so. But apparently, he was stupid for thinking that. He was a boring dope who should apparently not even try.

"People say worse stuff about me all the time," she said. "And I don't care."

But that was her. Dominique had this odd ability to not care what people thought about her. She didn't care that her hair always needed to be brushed, or that her clothes were too big. She didn't care that she didn't take a shower the day before and still looked like the last evening Quidditch practice. She didn't care what she said to people and she didn't care what people said to her. But he did care what people said. He cared a lot. She may not want people to like her, but he wanted people to like him.

"Look," she said, "if I tell you who wrote it, will you realize how stupid it all is? How it's just one stupid girl's opinion. A girl you probably don't even care about?"

He stared at her. He didn't want to make any promises; still, he was curious who wrote it.

"It was Natalie, alright?" Dominique said in a low voice. "See? Stupid Natalie. I heard her telling Sarah and Eleanor all about it. She ranked all the boys, which is obviously why Louis is the only one who's high because she's madly in love with him and no one compares."

He blinked. Natalie? Natalie was...annoying. She was pretty enough, but she had faults of her own. She talked a lot and was sort of dim. Or maybe dim was the wrong word, but she only seemed to care about herself and gossip and stupid stuff. Nothing interesting. Natalie ranked him a five? _Natalie_?

"Sarah and Eleanor were trying to get her to raise some of the other boys' rankings," Dominique continued, "but she wouldn't hear of it. Her list, her rules. She did let them help her make comments. And while I can't be positive, it looked like Natalie's handwriting next to your name."

Natalie wrote that he was boring? _She_ was boring.

"I know it wasn't Sarah or Eleanor though, because I can remember them both saying you should be higher than a five. They thought a few of the boys deserved higher."

His ears perked a bit at that. They had thought he should be higher than a five? Really? Had they said that?

"So, see?" she continued as they reached the last set of stairs before the portrait hole. "You're letting yourself get bent out of shape over Natalie's opinions. She's an idiot." She stared at him. "And you are too, for caring in the first place." With a shake of her head she turned to walk off, though over her shoulder he added, "And for the record, I think you should have been ranked higher, too. You are quite boring, but you have other redeeming qualities. At least a six."

He pulled a face as he watched her walk away. What the….? Was that a compliment or an insult?

* * *

**#9: Sparrow**

Jack watched as the fluffy yellow duck bounced off the side of his brother's head and landed precariously on the neck of the guitar he'd been strumming in the back garden of their home. Jiffy hadn't seen it coming; his back had been turned toward the door, so it had been a nice, clean sneak hit. Jack hadn't had a shot that good in ages, but his aim had become rather good lately.

"Duck," he said well after the fact.

Jiffy flipped him off without even bothering to turn around.

Jack grinned, happy to see his older brother. He'd made the trip back home for Easter, which many of his classmates chose to ignore and remain at school for, but he knew his mother would have his head if he'd stayed. It meant a lot to her to have the whole family around for the holiday and present at church.

"You're home, then," Jiffy said once Jack approached and took the seat beside him.

"Just got in."

"How's school been?" he asked as he examined the strings on the neck of his guitar in a preoccupied manner.

"Fine," Jack said, watching as his brother fiddled with the tuning knobs. He seemed to be listening for a specific note. Jack had only heard a bit of what Jiffy had been playing before thumping him with the duck, but he was starting to sound pretty good. In his last letter to Jack, he'd mentioned he and a couple of his mates had actually started a band and were trying to gain some traction around the local music scene.

"Fine?" Jiffy repeated as he turned to look at him. "Fine in the same way things were always 'fine' back before you left for magic school? Or do you actually mean fine?"

"They're actually fine," Jack said with an affirmative nod. "I really like it there. I'm learning loads. I've got friends. No one thinks I'm a freak or tries to put me in the bin."

Jiffy laughed at that. "Well, that's always good to hear."

"Yeah, it's actually really good," Jack continued, watching as a small sparrow flitted around nearby before hastily taking to the sky again. "And Quidditch is great. I've been doing really well, especially since I'm on the younger side for a Beater, but my numbers are up there with the bigger blokes."

Jiffy was still throwing him an admiring sort of grin. "I'm genuinely happy to hear that, Jacky," he said, now plucking out a few quick chords in quick succession. "I'm a bit surprised because I never took you to be the sporty type growing up, but…" He shrugged. "Here we are."

"And I never took you to be the musical type, but here we are," Jack said as he gave the guitar neck a nudge. "You always griped the loudest when mam made us take piano lessons."

"Well, no shit. I hated the piano back then," Jiffy said. "Mostly because I hated Ms. Barker and her smelly house. I swore she was a witch." He hesitated, as if realizing what he said. "Not your type, mind you, but the creepy ones from storybooks that eat children and have green skin." He looked at him. "Wait, your lot doesn't actually—?"

"No," Jack said with a shake of his head. "They don't. At least not that I know of."

Jiffy let himself laugh at that. "Anyway, I've come around on the piano these days. If anything, I learned to read music because of it, which has helped now that I'm writing my own."

Jack was surprised to hear that. He still just assumed Jiffy was sitting around trying to pluck out some shitty covers of Oasis or Nirvana songs. "You're writing your own songs now?"

"I mean, yeah," Jiffy said. "Me and Asher. We're trying to knock some stuff out together. Not looking to be a cover-band forever, you know?" He returned to his guitar, where he started playing an unfamiliar, but lovely tune. "Asher's better with the lyrics, whereas I work out the melodies. It's a partnership."

"Can I hear something you've done?"

Jiffy pulled a face. "Jacky, come on, mate. You know I can't sing for shit. That's Asher's deal. The only time I even attempt to sing is if I've got some beautiful girl asking me to play her something, and then—and only then—will I do it. And since you are not a beautiful girl..."

Jack smirked at him. "Does it work?"

"Does what work?"

"You singing to them," he said obviously. "You do it to pull them. I just wondered if it worked."

Jiffy laughed a little, still looking over his guitar. He looked so much older these days—a man practically, even though he was only seventeen. The gap between seventeen and fourteen felt massive right now as Jack observed his brother. He had beard stubble on his face, and his features were no longer anything close to resembling childlike. He was six feet tall now, and even if he was still skinny, he looked as if he'd lived quite a bit of life already. He probably was, Jiffy had always been getting into something while Jack was sitting up away in his room.

"Sometimes I forget you're not this little kid anymore," Jiffy said. "You're away for so long and then you always come back fucking grown."

He shrugged. "I could say the same for you."

"I'm never away," Jiffy muttered. "Not yet anyway." He set his guitar aside. "And to answer your question, yes. It does work sometimes." He seemed to ponder that for a moment. "More often than not. Girls are quite keen on musicians."

Jack stared off across the garden, where his mother's lilies were starting to bloom full on. "Maybe I should take up the guitar, then. If girls like it..."

"Oh ho, listen to you trying to start," Jiffy said, giving him an appreciative clap on the back. "Well, I was fourteen when I started, so you're right where I was. But…" He looked back at him. "You shouldn't need a guitar. You've got that whole sporty, broom-flying thing going for you. Shouldn't you be getting attention from that? Am I wrong in thinking you're playing an actual sport in your world? Or is it actually some weird, nutter thing—?"

"No, it's an actual sport," Jack said. "It's _the_ sport in my world. There's nothing bigger—"

"Then what are you whining about? Plenty of girls love athletes."

Jack sighed. "Athletes in general, maybe, but not me. Apparently, I'm boring."

"I mean, Jacky, you are boring."

He turned to glower at him.

"For years, your idea of a good time was watching Jurassic Park on repeat…"

"That was years ago!" Jack countered. "I've moved on. I have friends and a life now."

"A boring life?"

"No," Jack muttered. "I mean, it's not particularly exciting, but…" He shook his head. "Look, there's just nothing particularly exciting about me. I'm apparently just quiet and...too nice."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"But girls think it's boring."

Jiffy's face seemed to acknowledge that he could see that. "Girls your age—hell, girls my age—they all want cool. And if they can't get cool, they want arseholes—that's not to say those things aren't mutually exclusive. I don't get it either, but speaking as someone who hangs with loads of arseholes and can sometimes be one myself, they just do."

"So, you're saying I should become an arsehole if I want girls to like me?"

"Absolutely not. I'll smack you so hard upside the head with this bloody duck—" he held it up, "—you'll be spitting out fluff feathers for weeks if I find out you're trying to intentionally be a wanker. Jack, you've always been a sweet kid…"

He groaned. That sounded pathetic.

"And yeah, it won't win you much clout now when girls are chasing the pricks and the dicks, but they will get tired of that shit one day. And that's where you come in."

"Terrific," Jack mumbled. "So, I just sit back and wait everyone out?"

"Nah, I think it's more you just have to put yourself out there more," Jiffy offered. "Maybe talk more. I promise you it'll happen if you take some chances."

"Take chances?" Jack asked. "You mean like getting a guitar and writing love songs so I can sing them to pretty girls?"

"Hey, I figured out my thing," Jiffy quipped. "You figure out yours." He paused for a moment as he reached over to pick up his guitar once more. "Also, maybe you shouldn't hang around as much with that handsome kid who looks like he should be a male model. What's his name?"

Jack laughed a little. "Louis?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's no wonder you can't get any attention if you're always flanking that one."

* * *

**#10: Walrus**

Dominique had somehow stuck a straw to her forehead and claimed she was a unicorn. It had made both Jack and Louis laugh given how ridiculous she looked with a single straw poking off her head, but she seemed to be relishing the humor of the situation.

It was a terrific summer day. The sky was blue and clear; the temperature warm, but not yet middle of summer hot despite it almost being July. There was no rain in the forecast and nothing of real importance to do other than sit around the ice cream parlor after a day of goofing off around Diagon Alley.

The three of them had already gone into almost every store—whether it interested them or not—and lounged about on the steps of the Gringotts in the sun while they'd people watched. They'd spent ages in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where Louis and Dominique's uncle showed them all sorts of new products that he was testing. They'd dared each other to venture down Knockturn Alley, though only Dominique even attempted it. She'd walked off for maybe a minute before she'd come running back, claiming that she couldn't stand the feeling of that place. She certainly let it be known that she was braver than the two of them for at least attempting.

And now, several hours later and their wallets much lighter, they had plopped down for ice cream and remained well after their initial sundaes were gone.

"What are we doing next?" Louis asked, pushing his hair back and looking up and down the street.

"I want to go back to Quality Quidditch Supplies and look at the new summer broom rollout one more time," Dominique said.

Louis groaned, having no interest in brooms. Truth be told, even though Jack did enjoy brooms, they already had spent ages looking at them that morning; he knew nothing had changed. But leave it to Dominique to be willing to spend another half and hour inspecting them.

"No, we've already done that," Louis muttered. "I'm bored with Diagon Alley, let's go somewhere else."

"Where?" Jack asked. "Out into proper London?"

Dominique was already shaking her head. "No, I get nervous out in the Muggle world. It's overwhelming and I'm always afraid I'm going to do or say something stupid."

"But that's why we've got Jack," Louis said, pointing at him. "He'll be our guide."

"We'd need money," Jack said. "London's expensive."

"We're not going into London," Dominique said matter-of-factly. "Our mum would kill us if she found out."

"And who's going to tell her?" Louis challenged. "How would she know?"

Dominique rolled her eyes and proceeded to start sticking two spoons under her top lip. When Jack stared at her curiously, she managed to mumble out, "Imma wal-wus."

He and Louis both snickered a little, mostly because of how random it was, though their attention was quickly stolen away by two girls they knew from school who had approached their table at that very moment.

Erin Tanner and Zara Zabini, two Slytherin girls from their year and the best of friends. Erin was the smaller of the two; very fair, sort of plain with her light brown hair pulled back in a tight bun. The other girl, Zara, was the opposite almost entirely— tall, dark, noticeably pretty, and had her dark hair pulled loosely off her face. She was smiling at them, while Erin's face was rather blank—well, it was until she settled her gaze on Dominique. Then she just looked confused.

"Hi…?" said Zara, having now also noticed Dominique with spoons stuffed into her mouth.

Louis had sat up at attention immediately. "Hey," he said, smiling at them both before realizing they were both still focused on Dominique. He turned and threw her a scathing look to knock it off.

"Imma wal-wus," Dominique said to Zara and Erin, not caring in the least that she looked ridiculous.

"I bet," Zara said.

"Dream big, Weasley," Erin offered, smirking at her. Louis looked as if he could have melted into the ground. Jack didn't say anything, but he did sort of wish Dominique would take the spoons out of her mouth.

Zara seemed to shake off the strange elephant—walrus?—in the room and turned to smile at Louis. "Funny running into you here."

"Yeah, it is," Louis said, locking his gaze directly onto her. It made her noticeably react in a very pleased, but rather nervous sort of way. You could tell she immediately liked the attention. It was as if Louis had some sort of strange super power that just made girls practically fall to pieces around him; he was getting better and better at it every day.

Dominique, who'd finally pulled the spoons out, mumbled, "Is it funny? We are in Diagon Alley, which is easily the most popular spot for people to shop and be. Where else would you—?"

The look on Louis' face was now practically murderous. Dominique didn't seem to get it, or if she did, she truly did not care in the least to help her brother look cooler. Jack was well aware that Louis had a thing for Zara—they'd talked about it several times. After his relationship with Kiera broke down after the Christmas holidays, he'd moved on to flirting rather shamelessly with Zara for the rest of third-year. Nothing had come from it since neither seemed to make a move and school then ended, but Louis had been optimistic about hopefully seeing her over the summer.

Now, here they were, and Dominique was being a muppet.

"Are we getting ice cream or…?" Erin asked Zara, apparently not here for the Louis and Zara googly-eye show playing out in front of them.

"Yes," Zara said, gesturing to the shop. "We are." She looked back at Louis. "But we'll swing back by after. If you're still here?"

"Sure, yeah, we will be," Louis said with a nod, his smile back on her now that he wasn't looking at his sister. "We'll be right here."

"Cool," Zara said, though Erin was nudging her to get a move on. A lot of smiles were exchanged until they finally walked off and into the shop. Jack could distinctly hear Dominique mock the way Zara had said, "Cool," in a funny voice under her breath.

" _What_ is wrong with you?" Louis said the moment the girls were out of earshot.

"I didn't do anything," Dominique said. She looked at Jack. "Did I do something?"

Nope. He wasn't getting in the middle of this. He didn't say a word.

"Didn't you want to go look at Quidditch stuff?" Louis asked.

"You told me we weren't going."

" _We_ aren't," he said, "but _you_ can."

She threw him a look, though she seemed to catch on because, with a huff and a roll of her eyes, she stood and threw her spoons onto the table. "Is it required for you to flirt with every single girl in the world now?"

Louis stared at her, his face very much screaming, " _None of your business."_

"Fine, be an idiot," she muttered.

"I will."

"You are," she said, turning to Jack. "You want to escape and come with me?"

Jack looked at Louis, who shot him a look as if to say no; that he needed to stay put. Maybe he wanted backup or some sort of support. Maybe he thought he'd look dumb sitting here waiting for the girls to come back out on his own. Either way, Jack understood loud and clear.

"I'm going to stay with Lou," he said.

Dominique rolled her eyes even harder. "You too?"

He didn't understand what that meant. Was it a surprise he was going to stick by his best mate? Or a surprise he, also, liked to talk to girls? Why did this surprise her?

"Yeah, I guess."

She scoffed and turned to walk off in the direction of the Quidditch store. "You're both pathetic."

" _You're both pathetic,_ " Louis mimicked once she was gone, rolling his eyes. "She always acts so immature whenever this sort of stuff comes up. She rags on Vic, too. She seems to think that just because she's not keen on dating and the opposite sex, that the rest of us shouldn't be. Merlin forbid, I want to talk to a fit girl." He let his gaze travel over to the ice cream shop behind them and smiled. "I can't believe we ran into her."

"I definitely think she's into you," Jack said.

"Yeah?"

Jack felt it was hard not to laugh at him and say that every girl was into him, so obviously Zara probably was, too. Instead, he simply nodded. "Yeah, you can tell."

Louis seemed to be mulling that over, his knee bouncing up and down. "What should I say? I never know what to say to her."

"You're asking me?" Jack said with a laugh. Here was Louis, who had already had a real girlfriend whom he snogged on multiple occasions, asking him for what to talk about. Jack's experience with talking to girls up to this point usually consisted of answering their question about Louis.

Louis sighed. "She's just really cool, you know?"

"So are you," Jack offered, just as the girls had emerged from the ice cream shop with cones in their hands.

Louis sat up straighter again and watched as they approached, already smiling. There were more "heys" and smiles; comments on what flavors they'd gotten and what flavors were everyone's favorites. It was all very mundane and boring, though Zara and Louis seemed to simply enjoy any excuse to talk to each other.

"Where'd she go?" Erin asked, gesturing to the empty chair Dominique had vacated.

"Quidditch shop," Jack offered, realizing now as the girls sat down—and Louis and Zara paired off to talk amongst themselves—that he was going to have to sit here and have a chat with Erin. Erin, it seemed, was realizing this now as well.

Erin was...well, he had no idea. They'd rarely ever spoken outside of the one time they'd had to work together on a Sleeping Draught in second year. She didn't seem particularly keen on him, and he wasn't referring to anything romantic in nature; she didn't seem interested in him even as someone she had to make polite conversation with. She gave off the impression she didn't want much to do with anyone outside of her gang of Slytherin friends.

"I need to go to the Quidditch shop too," Erin said as she looked back at Jack and licked her ice cream. "I need to get some things. I'm planning on trying out for the house team next year."

"Cool," said Louis brightly, throwing Jack a smile. "You two can talk about that and Quidditch and stuff."

Jack raised his eyebrow at him, half wanting to sarcastically thank him for the suggestion. However, in return Louis had thrown him a silent plea of a look. It was obvious he wanted a few minutes of Zara's undivided attention, and he needed Jack's help in getting it away from her friend. It was so rare that you ever saw Zara without Erin directly in tow, so getting her on her own to chat had always been an issue for him.

Jack sighed as if to say he understood. He turned back to Erin, knowing he just had to keep the conversation up. "Oh yeah? What position?"

"Chaser," said Zara, for some reason entering their conversation. "I am as well. There are two open spots. We've been practicing all summer."

"At Zara's house," Erin said before she launched into the work they'd been putting in and the time they'd spent working together. Jack shot Louis a look, knowing this wasn't what he had in mind. He was already surrounded by endless Quidditch talk when Dominique was around, and now as well, it seemed. Jack shrugged a little, not really sure how to switch it back off Quidditch until he caught Erin said, "I really need new bristle scissors because mine are getting dull."

"Do you want to walk down to the Quidditch shop with me," Jack suddenly blurted out.

He'd said it a bit bluntly, and he'd been trying to make it sound nonchalant, but it hadn't come out that way. He was trying to be a good friend and buy Louis a few uninterrupted, Quidditch free minutes, but even Louis was staring at him a bit funny after that outburst.

"...to get new scissors," Jack said more normally. "I need to go and get...handle polish?"

He caught Louis' eye, who nodded and added, "Yeah, you were talking about needing some of that earlier. You should go."

"Why didn't you go when Dominique went, then?" Erin asked. "Did you say she just left to go there?"

"I...don't know," Jack said blankly. He was only starting to feel more and more stupid, and he wasn't even the one trying to chat anyone up here. He again threw Louis a look, earning him an appreciative smile in return.

"I'll wait here for you," Zara offered to Erin.

"You don't want to come?" she asked her.

Zara shook her head and proceeded to lick her ice cream. She even managed to make that look really pretty and Louis's eyes were glued to her; Jack made a point to look away.

"No, you two go." Zara looked back at Louis. "Unless you had plans to go—"

Louis was shaking his head and smiling. "I can hang out."

More smiles and Jack immediately knew what he was supposed to do. Stand, distract Erin, go hang around the Quidditch shop for fifteen to twenty minutes, and let Louis attempt to chat up Zara. Funnily enough, he got the distinct impression that Erin also seemed to know what was supposed to happen here because she was already begrudging Zara a sigh before she stood up—ice cream still in hand.

"I'll meet you back here in a few minutes," Erin said, throwing Jack a look as if to say to get on with it. Jack stood as well, catching Louis' eye one last time. If expressions could talk, he knew Louis' would be saying, " _Thank you._ "

Jack and Erin walked in silence for the first minute, her finishing up her ice cream and him shoving his hands deep into his pockets and watching all the people that passed by. The Quidditch shop was a five minute walk, so they'd have to find something to talk about. He just wasn't sure what that was because he honestly barely knew Erin.

"Zara's pretty keen on Louis," she said randomly after she'd eaten the last bite of her ice cream.

"Louis' keen on her, too."

"I keep telling her that, but she thinks he doesn't like her," Erin muttered. "She wants to invite him to her birthday party next weekend, but…" She rolled her eyes.

"She should. He'd say yes."

"It's her first proper party with boys, which...whatever," Erin muttered. "She's nervous about it. Get this, she's had an invitation written out to him for two weeks now to ask him, but she refuses to send it. because she's petrified he'll say no" She looked at him. "So, tell you what. I'm inviting you. Then you just make sure you bring Louis along."

Jack turned to look at her, though she immediately must have mistaken his expression for something else entirely because she immediately added, "But don't think I'm inviting you because I've got ulterior motives, because I don't."

He furrowed his brow. What did that mean?

"I just don't want you thinking I'm inviting you because you think I…" She stared at him. "You're not my type."

What the hell? Where had that come from? "I didn't..."

"Good," she said matter-of-factly. "I didn't want you getting the wrong idea."

The tone seemed rather unnecessary. He also wasn't sure why he was suddenly bothered by a girl he'd had absolutely no interest in suddenly making sure he was well aware that she also had no interest in him.

Jack looked away. What had he gotten himself into? Holy shit, Louis owed him. He suddenly started walking faster to the Quidditch store.

"So, who's your Quidditch team?"

"What?" Jack asked, looking back at her once the shop came into sight.

"Who do you support?" Erin asked. "Who's your team? You do have one?"

"Um, yeah," he muttered. "I like the Bats."

She shrugged as if that was apparently acceptable, though not her preferred choice. "I'm a Harpies fan."

"That's who Dominique follows. She's a big fan."

"Is she?" Erin asked, suddenly seeming interested in that fact. "That's cool. I wonder who her favorite player is?"

"You'd have to ask her," Jack mumbled, not having much more to say on the subject and wanting more than ever to just get to the shop. They were getting closer every second, and he knew once they were inside he could find something else to distract his attention away, or possibly find Dominique so that he'd have someone else to talk to. He had hoped to make it there in silence until Erin suddenly spoke up.

"What's her story?"

"Who?"

"Dominique," said Erin, her voice quieter now. "Does she...fancy anyone?"

Jack found his pace slowing down at that. What kind of question…? Why was she asking? Why did she care? What did this have to do with anything?

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Aren't you two friends?" Erin said.

"Sort of," Jack said, though they weren't the sorts of friends who talked about that sort of thing. He wasn't even sure he'd ever heard Dominique even hint at taking a fancy to someone, or even just commenting on someone being attractive or anything like that. He'd never even questioned it because she...just didn't do that sort of thing. "We don't talk about that stuff."

"Never?" Erin asked.

"Never," Jack said. He and Dominique's friendship was built strictly on Quidditch, Louis, and whatever dumb conversations happened to fall in between either of those topics. They certainly didn't talk about who they fancied with each other; if he were being honest, he couldn't see her fancying anyone. She seemed completely uninterested.

"I just was wondering if she's ever mentioned she was into any...boys," Erin mumbled.

"She hasn't," Jack said, finding this entire conversation very strange as they finally reached the Quidditch shop. He pulled the door open. "She doesn't talk about boys."

"That could be a good thing," Erin offered brightly, which again made no bloody sense whatsoever. "Maybe she likes girls."

"Wait? What?" asked Jack, stopping to throw her a look. "You mean, as in fancying girls?"

She nodded. "I mean, why not?" She let her eyes narrow on him. "That's a thing, you know. Girls can—"

"I know it is, I've just…" He shrugged. Again, he didn't think about Dominique like that. He considered her love life the way he'd consider a toddler's love life—that was to say, he didn't. She didn't want anyone thinking about it; she never spoke to it, so he didn't think about it. Whether she liked boys or girls or hippogriffs, he didn't have the slightest idea. Why was Erin so bloody interested?

"Because if she was keen on girls…"

"Look, I have no idea," He shook his head. "We honestly don't talk about that sort of thing. Why do you keep asking about who she fancies? You seem really interested."

She shrugged, but was clearly blushing just a touch now. "No reason. Just curious. She's pretty, is all..." She pointed toward the back of the store. "Handle polish is in the back."

"Terrific," he muttered, now walking straight to the back. He'd made it halfway there before he realized he didn't actually need handle polish, but then just as quickly realized that the polish was right next to the scissors—all in the Broom Care section—so Erin had been right on his tail the entire time. Was he actually going to have to walk back there and pretend to look at polish? Or worse yet, actually buy some, when he'd just gotten a new tub two weeks ago?

"You alright, Ians?" Erin asked him once he stopped walking. "Polish is right over there."

"Right, yeah…" he said as he made his way to the back of the store and picked up the first tub of handle polish he found. He pretended to read the label as Erin stood one shelf over and browsed the selection of bristle scissors.

After reading three different kinds of handle polish's labels from start to finish, he glanced around to spot Dominique standing up near the front of the store. She was once again inspecting the brooms section with great interest, and was currently examining the handle of a Firebolt Max 5.0.

"I'm getting these," Erin said, holding up a pair of scissors. "You find your polish?"

He shook his head and replaced the polish he'd pretended to be interested in. "I'm fine. I just remember I have extra at home."

Erin stared at him as if he were a complete idiot before she rolled her eyes and muttered, "Then what was the point…?" but she turned to walk up to the counter to pay before finishing that sentence. Jack knew one thing for sure, she was about as interested in talking to him as he was to her.

He made his way over to where Dominique was standing, hoping she could provide a buffer or a distraction, but he'd instead received a rather cold reception—a sharp raise of the eyebrow—as soon as she noticed him. "What are you doing here? Thought you and Louis were busy being prats?"

He smiled wryly at her. "You need to save me."

"From?"

"Erin Tanner," he said in a low voice, before explaining to her why he and Erin were here together in the first place.

Dominique snickered. "Well, that's what you get."

"She's asked me about a hundred questions about you."

Dominique made a face. "About me? What for?"

"I don't know," Jack muttered, picking up a broom at random and pretending to look it over. "She keeps asking if you fancy anyone—"

She let a sharp laugh escape her then. "Me? Is she serious? When have I ever...? Why does she care?"

"And get this," Jack continued. "She's wondering if you…"

But he stopped speaking for a moment, as if a hundred Bludgers suddenly hit him on the head at once. Erin's questions, her comments—" _Maybe she likes girls"/"That's a thing, you know"/"She's really pretty, is al_ l"—she wasn't asking because she was nosy, she was asking because she was vaguely interested. She was trying to feel him out, thinking he and Dominique were better friends than they were, because she was genuinely interested in Dominique's status. If he had to guess, Erin liked girls. Erin liked...Dominique.

"Wondering what?" Dominique asked, staring at him strangely.

Jack blinked at her. "I…nothing." He didn't have enough evidence to prove it either way and felt it wasn't his story to tell if it were true. Erin could figure that out, though he felt the need to warn her she was barking up the wrong tree. He had no idea what Dominique liked or wanted, but he was fairly certain that whether it was boys or girls, she couldn't be bothered with any of them at the moment. That was for certain.

And oddly enough, he now couldn't help but feel miffed by the whole thing. Even Dominique—who couldn't care less one way or the other, who didn't even try—was getting more attention from girls than he was.


	3. Fourth Year

**Fourth Year**

* * *

**#11: Ugly Hat**

It was a cold and cloudy mid-December day as Jack and Dominique made their way down to Open Pitch. The holidays were just a week away, and with the first term's Quidditch season wrapped up—with Gryffindor thus undefeated—Open Pitch was now the only way for either of them to get up on a broom. This was especially important to Jack because unlike Dominique, when he went home for the holidays, that was roughly two weeks he was now going to spend not flying.

He was just hitting his stride this season, having had stellar performances in all three matches so far, and hitting almost all of his targets. He was hitting things with such accuracy that he wasn't even sure where it was coming from; only that if he concentrated, the Bludger just went where he needed to go.

It wasn't only him, the entire Gryffindor team was on top of everything and rather untouchable. Dominique was catching every Snitch, Durrin's stoppage numbers were amazing, their three Chasers were scoring like mad—and it was rather exhilarating to be so dominant. All it did was make Jack want to spend every free second on a broom—a feeling that luckily Dominique shared.

She'd asked him that morning if he'd wanted to visit the pitch with her, and he'd readily agreed before she'd turned back up wearing the ugliest hat he'd ever seen in his life. Leave it Dominique to even own such a monstrosity, but it was bulky and red; a wool-lined winter hat that had flaps that fell over her ears and covered most of her face. She'd tucked her hair up underneath it; and It seemed more appropriate for a lumberjack in the tundra rather than a teenaged girl. It wasn't even that cold outside, but she claimed it kept her head warm and refused to hear an ill word about it. Not that he would have said anything either way. That was her choice.

As they entered the pitch, brooms in hand, Jack was already observing the crowds, which weren't as bad as he expected considering the weather was sure to turn for the worse soon. People were milling around the pitch, most up in the air on brooms, though many on the ground and in the stands messing around. There was a group in the air playing a small game of pick-up Quidditch; others were working out with brooms. There was still plenty of space for him to work.

"Oh, great..." Dominique muttered, and Jack turned to follow her gaze. Off to the side, in the front rows of the stands, a group of people were sitting, talking and laughing; some with brooms and some without. Jack immediately recognized Durrin among them, and soon the rest immediately came into focus once he glanced from face to face.

It was a collection of some of the most popular sixth and seventh-years in the school. Durrin hung out with them. Some of them played Quidditch; some of them didn't. There were the Ravenclaws Chasers—Stuart Reynolds and David Thorpe—who commanded the attention of almost everyone in the school when they walked into a room. Stuart was arguably the best looking, most charismatic bloke around—he could even take the attention away from Louis in any crowd; and while David couldn't quite match up to Stuart, girls were still really keen on him, too. He was apparently really funny, and between the two of them, they easily owned the school.

They were both currently sitting and chatting, holding court with the others as their brooms lay lazily cast aside. The Ravenclaw Beaters, two blokes by the name of Swain and Bradley were standing around talking to them. Durrin was in the thick of things too, right beside his mates, Reynolds and Thorpe. He was unfortunately not blessed with their looks, but what he lacked in physical features, he made up for in personality because everyone loved Durrin. He was a really fun person to be around.

Rolly, Jack's Beating partner was standing around over there as well, as was Martha, one of Gryffindor's Chasers. A handful of other random sixth and seventh-years were standing around, most hovering near a collection of girls who were sitting in the stands. Jack saw Annabelle Paige, Hufflepuff's Seeker, who Durrin was always hanging around with whenever Jack saw him in the corridors. Colleen Lynch and Penelope Shears, two annoying Gryffindor sixth-years who were always more concerned with gossip and chasing the best boy were there too, laughing at something Durrin had said. A collection of Hufflepuff girls, one of which Jack knew played Chaser on their team—he couldn't remember her name—were sitting beside Annabelle.

On her other side sat Elizabeth Cole, who was, without question, one of the best looking girls in school; though Jack couldn't have even claimed to have ever even spoken to her. She was also Stuart Reynolds girlfriend, which naturally made sense. Perfect people tended to find each other, didn't they? He watched as Reynolds put his arm around her rather affectionately, which sort of made him a little jealous. Not of Reynolds, since he knew he didn't stand a chance in hell with Elizabeth, but rather because of the casual way he'd pulled that move around a gorgeous girl. It had seemed so effortless and relaxed. He wanted to be that cool.

"You see who's over there now, don't you?" Dominique asked, reminding Jack that she was still standing there.

He raised his eyebrow, not entirely sure what she meant. She was pointing now, and it wasn't until she did that he suddenly saw someone he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't sure how he missed her, but there with her hair pulled back and a smile on her face as she playfully avoided a tickle that David Thorpe was trying to give her, was Victoire.

"She and Thorpe are dating now," Dominique muttered.

"Yeah?"

"I know," she said. "Gross, right?"

He shrugged, but didn't say anything. He didn't think it was gross. They were actually a good looking couple. He was just surprised since he was a seventh-year and Victoire only a fifth-year. But she was always hanging around with older kids and everyone liked her, so it made sense.

"And now she'll be down here watching him flying around, even though she doesn't care about Quidditch," Dominique sighed, sounding aggravated. "Just like the other Quidditch widows."

Quidditch widow—or widower—was a term people used for the girl and boyfriends of the Quidditch players who turned up to constantly sit in the stands to watch, but obviously not participate in anything Quidditch related. Jack didn't see anything necessarily wrong with that, even if Dominique did. Victoire wanted to be around her boyfriend. He thought the idea of having someone come out and watch you play because they wanted to see you was sweet. Romantic even.

"Anyway," Dominique said, pointing to the sky. "Want to get to it?"

"Yeah," Jack said, gripping his broom with one hand and his bat with the other. He always made a point to bring his bat out with him when he flew, even if he wasn't knocking around Bludgers, because it was easier to keep up flying the way he'd now trained himself to than to revert back to flying freehanded like the others. The more comfortable he became with that bat in hand, the more he was hoping it would be more of an extension to him rather than anything else.

He and Dominique flew some laps, weaving in and out of the others who were out there flying at their own pace. They raced a few times, but she beat him every time—as she always did. Her broom was faster, she wasn't carrying a bat, and she honestly was just better on it than he was. Even if they switched brooms and he freed up his hands, he was pretty sure she'd still beat him every time.

They'd stopped in the air to briefly rest, seeing as Dominique was gearing up to practice some of her dives. She was talking about something she'd read about temperature fluctuations affecting broom speeds, but he was only half listening. His gaze was just above top of the stadium; the castle was in the distance, along with the forest and the lake. He loved this view. He couldn't honestly stare at it for hours and get completely lost in it.

Not far off, Durrin, Rolly and their friends were now loudly playing a pickup game. Something was apparently really funny because they were all shouting in a very amused way. Their laughter was echoing around the pitch.

"Want me to try?" Dominique had asked him.

He turned back to look at her. He hadn't been listening; given the look on her face, she figured that out quickly enough. She rolled her eyes. "I said I've been practicing standing on my broom."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Because there wasn't any need to stand on a broom, but he didn't say it. It was a trick at best, and Jack wasn't particularly into the tricks and flashy moves. Beating was more about the fundamentals of flying; no real room to show off. But Seekers could, which explained why Dominique was attempting it.

She was now carefully positioning herself to get up onto two feet on her broom. Jack looked down. They were at least sixty feet in the air. He wondered if he should get his wand out in case she fell.

"It's all about being steady and coordinated," she said with great concentration, looking a bit like a surfer who was crouching low on a board.

"Balance requires coordination?" Jack joked. "Who'd have thought?"

"Shut up, don't make me laugh," Dominique snapped, her eyes never leaving her broom. She let go one of her hands, her other still low and on the handle. She was more wobbly than she probably wanted to be.

"Don't fall," Jack said, though the sound of a cracking bat from nearby made him immediately turn. He couldn't help it, that sound was now almost an alarm to him. It meant someone had hit a Bludger and he was immediately on high alert, despite this not being a Quidditch match.

Dominique had heard it too and had a similar reaction. She immediately grabbed her broom with two hands again and bobbled, but somehow still managed to stay crouched and upright. What happened next all occurred very fast. There was Bludger headed straight in their direction, on track to hit Dominique where she awkwardly had positioned herself. Reflexively—and without thinking—Jack closed the gap between them, raised his bat, and knocked the Bludger clean off its trajectory.

It went sailing off into the opposite direction with an equally loud crack, but the chaos of the moment had sent Dominique tumbling off her broom. She'd screamed and fell toward him, thankfully knocking just into him instead of tumbling off the other side. He'd been forced to cling to his own broom, also while trying to catch her. He'd dropped his bat in the shuffle, but managed to steady her while she awkwardly had one leg half slung around her broom; the rest of her was gripping onto him for dear life.

"What the bloody hell?" she said, sounding startled and rather shell shocked.

"Are you alright?" he asked, noticing that somehow, in all of that shuffle, her hat had still managed to stay on.

"I think so," she said as he gave her a push back onto her broom. She looked a little pale and still dazed, but it was clear she was ready to shake that off in order to find the culprit of whomever sent that Bludger their way.

Just then, a voice called out, "Sorry!" from twenty yards away. Jack noticed it was attached to Levi Bradley, the seventh-year Ravenclaw Beater, who followed with. "It was an accident!"

"An accident?" Dominique yelled, the color rising in her face. "An accident?! You nearly killed me!"

"Why were you standing on your broom?" he called back, but at the same moment, Durrin had flown between the two of them and adopted a sort of mediator position.

"Levi, are you trying to take out my Seeker?"

"I wasn't trying," said Levi matter-of-factly, now being joined by his Beating partner, Joe Swain. Several others had flown over, including Rolly, Stuart, David, Martha, and Annabelle. "It was an accident. I didn't know it was your Seeker. I wasn't trying to hit anyone! The Bludger just got away from me."

"What kind of piss poor fucking Beater are you if you can't control your bloody aim?" Dominique shouted, not at all concerned that everyone in the near vicinity was looking at her. "You're worthless!"

And with that, she set off toward the ground to land, leaving everyone to look at Levi with expressions of either amusement or unease.

"Look, I know your lot isn't looking forward to playing Gryffindor again after we destroyed you earlier in the season," Durrin joked, addressing the gaggle of Ravenclaws. "But let's not result to dirty tactics like trying to murder my Seeker. Maybe just practice more?"

"It was an accident, Durr!" shouted Levi, all while Stuart, Dave, and Joe backed up his claims. Rolly and Martha had joined Durrin in taking the piss on the Ravenclaws and Levi, and Jack couldn't tell if any of this was serious or just a group of people having a bit of a laugh at this one kid's expense.

He glanced back down at the ground and noticed Dominique was standing there, now joined by her sister. He wondered if she was alright. Yeah, it all seemed rather funny now because she hadn't fallen sixty feet to the earth below, but that definitely had been scary for a moment there.

"What we should really be talking about is this kid," came Durrin's voice, and Jack looked up to see that he was pointing at him. "What a fucking save. Not even just the catch, but did you see how quick he got on top of that Bludger?"

There was a murmur of agreement, and to Jack's surprise, everyone seemed rather impressed. Rolly was pointing out how quick Jack always was, while Martha was smiling at him and saying she'd expect nothing less. Both Ravenclaw Beaters were nodding and commending him for how great that hit had been, and David was saying he couldn't believe Jack managed to pull that off.

"And you're only a fourth-year?" Stuart asked.

"Only a fourth-year," Durrin said, answering for Jack as the group of them all seemed to now be turning back toward the ground. "Think about how good he's going to be with a few more years on him?"

"Seriously, mate, you killed it," added David with an impressed nod before he took a turn to land. "Well done."

"He'll be breaking skulls soon enough," Durrin said. "You lot should be happy you're finishing school soon before he reaches his full potential!"

Jack hadn't known what to say to any of that, but everyone had left to land at that point anyway, so there was no point dwelling. He flew down to the pitch as well, found his bat—and the sizable dent it had made upon falling to the soft ground—and proceeded to walk over to where Victoire and Dominique were still talking several yards away from the rest of the group.

Victoire smiled at him as he approached. "Nice moves out there. Way to save me an afternoon spent in the hospital wing because this one thinks it's a bright idea to stand on her broom."

He begrudged her a modest smile, wondering if it really had looked more impressive than it felt. He didn't think he did anything all that special. He turned to Dominique. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she offered, though her face seemed still shaken. "Ready to go and curse Bradley over there."

"I'm sure it was an accident," Victoire said, sounding as if she'd repeated that phrase several times over the last few minutes. She was glancing over toward her group of friends before rounding back on her sister. "No one's looking to hurt anyone."

"Says you."

Victoire sighed, reaching off then to pluck the hat off Dominique's head. "This hat is awful. You need to burn it immediately. Why do you wear it?"

Dominique snatched it back, pulling it aggressively back down on her head just as Durrin and David appeared. The latter was asking Victoire how Dominique was doing, while Durrin walked straight up to Dominique and tipped her hat up to look her in the eyes. She seemed annoyed by the gesture.

"Are you going to survive?"

"Yes," she muttered.

"Good," Durrin said with his always present smile, glancing around the group of them. "Then come on then, stop hiding over here." He specifically gestured to Jack as if to follow, though his eyes went quickly back to Dominique's hat. "How many sheep had to die to make that?"

"Enough," Dominique snapped, just as David had put his arm around Victoire and their pair of them turned to rejoin everyone. Jack dawdled, still unsure as to what he should be doing. A part of him felt as if he didn't belong over there with the cool kids, but another part of him felt he should at least go and pretend he did for a few minutes. They were all currently impressed with him, and that wasn't a feeling that came around all that often.

Dominique was staring at him, seemingly wondering what his plan was, but she didn't say anything one way or another. Jack had to assume that if she walked over there, she was going to pick a fight with someone—probably Levi Bradley. Maybe it was better if he offered to walk back up to the castle with her to avoid the potential bloodshed? That may have been the best option.

But he thought too long because Durrin was already calling over, "Jack! Nic!"

He chose to go at that, though he wasn't sure if Dominique followed or not. The entire group of them seemed rather intimidating as he ventured over, though Durrin wasted no time in proudly putting his arm around him, as if presenting him to the entire crowd.

"This kid is something else!' he called out, and there were smiles and nods, someone said, "Cracking job, mate." One of the girls, the one he recognized as a Hufflepuff Chaser, seemed really impressed. She was smiling directly at him—which made his stomach swoop—as she told him, "Really amazing."

"You probably saved your friend from getting a broken skull if not worse," Elizabeth Cole said with a sweet smile that again made something in his stomach swoop. She then added, "Seriously, well done."

"How is _he_ , anyway?" asked Colleen Lynch, a strange smile playing on her face.

Jack stared at her rather questioningly. How was who? Him? He was fine. He wasn't the one who had nearly fallen.

"He's fine," Durrin said, throwing Colleen a strange look. "He's standing right here. Do you not see him?"

"No, I meant your friend," Colleen said to Jack. "The one who fell. With the hideous hat."

"You mean Dominique? She's fine," Jack said, still looking confused. He turned to look for her, only to see that she was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze practically burning a hole through Colleen's head.

Standing just beyond her, he could see Victoire's face tighten with extreme annoyance. She was rolling her eyes and throwing David a look before she turned around. "You know bloody well that's my sister, Colleen."

"Oh," said Colleen, her tone sounding surprised but her expression looking as if none of this was news to her. "Right. I always forget you have a sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Stuart said to Victoire, sounding earnest and as if he'd just heard this for the first time.

"She's my Seeker," Durrin said, pointing at Dominique.

"You can't really blame him, Durr," said Penelope with a smirk aimed in Colleen's direction. "The way she dresses, you'd think Victoire had two brothers."

Victoire looked as if she were about to have words; David also had turned to face them with a very, " _Lay off"_ expression on his face, but neither were fast enough for Dominique, who quite loudly snapped, "Eat shit, you vapid, worthless twit!"

That got everyone's attention. Almost everyone looked a little lost for words, now exchanging wide-eyed quick glances, but no one spoke up. Penelope clearly hadn't expected that; she was now looking at Colleen, who was the true mouthpiece of their duo, almost for protection of some sort. Colleen, however, was silently observing Dominique, not seemingly knowing what to make of her.

Durrin gaped a little. Victoire was looking at her sister as if to tell her to stop before things got worse, but even Jack—who didn't know Dominique nearly as well Victoire did— knew her silent pleas were a lost cause.

"If you've got something to say," Dominique said, clearly not at all fazed by the onlookers. "Come on down here and say it to my face!"

Penelope said nothing, and surprisingly Colleen didn't either. It was a first for Colleen—she always had something to say—but Jack almost thought she looked amused. She was smirking slightly.

"Alright, let's not…" Durrin was saying, walking over toward Dominique and attempting to lay his hands on her shoulders, as if to calm her down. She immediately shrugged him off and threw him a look.

"Fuck off and eave me alone." With that, she turned and walked off. Jack wasn't even sure what he'd just witnessed.

"Why are you so...?" Victoire said to Colleen and Penelope, throwing them both exhausted looks before trekking off after Dominique. No one else said anything, though it was clear a few awkward glances were being exchanged. After a few moments, Colleen could be heard finally muttering, "That one's mental."

"No, she's not," Jack said, not entirely sure where he'd found the words since he felt completely out of place at the moment. He actually felt very young and rather small, especially around all of these loud, large personalities; but he had to say something. He'd always wished someone would have said something for him when he was being shoved in bins and taunted by the Byrne brothers. Dominique could be a bit much, but Colleen had no right to say these things about her when she wasn't here to defend herself.

"You purposely called her a boy," Durrin said. "What did you think she was going to do? Thank you?"

"Because she dresses like a boy!" Penelope argued, which had a few people—David, Durrin, and Martha among them—asking what it mattered. Others, like Stuart and Elizabeth were now standing to exit, apparently over this entire display and some of the present company. Stuart was attempting to nudge both Durrin and David away from the impending row that was about to break out. Everyone else was dispersing as well.

"No one asks for your bloody opinion," Durrin was saying to the girls rather loudly, ready to have it out. Annabelle was now tugging on his arm while Stuart was urging him to leave it. "You constantly give it, though!"

Jack had a lot of admiration for Durrin in that moment, especially since Jack knew he and Dominique didn't always get along. They actually fought quite a bit, but it was always in a Quidditch sense and nothing that deep. It was obvious he respected her though, and it was admirable to see him willing to have it out with a very, very difficult girl to defend her.

Jack realized then that if he ran, he could probably catch up with Dominique and Victoire in the direction they'd gone off in. He wasn't sure why he'd hung around in the first place, but as he turned to go, he almost ran smack dab into the smiling Hufflepuff girl who'd complimented him earlier. She looked as surprised as he did by their almost collision, but immediately put an awkward smile on her face.

"Sorry," Jack said, stepping around her. "I...I'm going…" He pointed. "I need to go."

"Oh," she said, and he was already a few steps away before he heard her call after him, "Right, um. see you later. Again, really impressive earlier!"

He'd taken off across the pitch then, jogging across the grass and into the tunnels. He'd made it to the exit and almost halfway back to the castle before he finally came across Dominique and Victoire walking side by side. He was panting and trying to catch his breath once he came upon them.

"Did you run all the way up here?" Victoire asked him, looking him up and down.

He was nodding and swallowed hard as he looked at Dominique. "Hey, don't worry about those girls."

She smirked a little, almost as if he'd just told her something as obvious as the sky was blue.

"You don't look like a boy," he offered.

"Obviously. I'm not one," she said, still smirking.

She didn't seem at all bothered by any of this, which was...enviable.

"I don't give a shit what they say," Dominique said. "I never have and I never will. And I will be more than happy to fight or duel either of them if they want to keep running their mouths."

"Could you not?" Victoire asked.

Dominique looked back at Jack. "She doesn't want me to curse her friends and ruin her social life."

Victoire scoffed. "It had nothing to do with them and everything to do with you, Nic. Trust me, if anyone knows that Colleen and Penelope need a good curse to lay them out, it's me. But I don't want you to be the one to do it."

"But I'm volunteering to do it," Dominique said in a funny tone, which made Jack laugh. Victoire shot him a look as if to say not to encourage her, but Dominique seemed to appreciate it.

"Durrin would probably help you out," Jack said. "He was having it out with them after you left. Telling them to keep their mouths shut."

"Durrin's good people," Dominique said. "But I don't need him fighting any battles for me. I don't need anyone." She pulled her wand out of her pocket with her free, broomless hand, and then mimicked sending a curse.

Victoire shook her head. "Can we change the subject? Let's talk about the real curse here, which is this awful hat you insist on wearing."

"I'm wearing this hat to your wedding," Dominique said without skipping a beat as the two went back and forth the entire rest of the way back up to the castle.

They stopped in the Great Hall for lunch, where they ran into Louis and Flynn, who Victoire was now catching up on the details of Dominique's fall and Jack's catch. She briefly mentioned Dominique getting into a spat with Colleen Lynch, but glazed right over the details without focusing on the specifics. Dominique seemed especially keen to move past the entire ordeal, but Victoire seemed to feel Jack was owed his moment in the sun for what he'd done.

"Sounds impressive," Louis had said, reaching out casually to take Dominique's hat from her. She didn't seem to care that he did it, and watched as he put it on his own head and smirked around at everyone, knowing how stupid he must of looked.

"Well," Flynn said to Jack. "Good thing you were there, then."

"It really wasn't a big deal," Jack said, and he meant it. He'd hit a Bludger, which he did hundreds of times a week; he happened to be there when Dominique fell to catch her. It was all luck rather than heroics. When he glanced at Dominique, she was lamely pushing green beans around her plate.

A passing second-year suddenly said, "Cute hat, Louis," which immediately caused the two other girls she was walking with to nod and giggle in agreement. Louis mumbled out a weak thanks, but Dominique had let her fork drop loudly onto her plate.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she muttered under her breath. It caused Louis made a face and quickly took the hat off and set it to the side. At the exact same moment, Durrin appeared rather suddenly, having made his way down the length of the table and taking the spot beside Jack.

"Just the person I was looking for," he said with a quick smile, nodding hello to Louis, Flynn, and Victoire. He let his gaze settle on Dominique, but when she didn't look up or acknowledge him, he seemed to find it wasn't worth it. "So, mate, do you know Holly?"

Jack shook his head. He was awful with names. "Should I?"

"Holly Piedmont," Victoire said, apparently knowing exactly whom Durrin was talking about. "She's in Hufflepuff. In my year."

"Yeah, you've got to know her," Durrin said. "She's one of their Chasers. Blondish hair." He pointed at his own head for some reason, which wasn't blond at all. "Sort of wavy. Anyway, she's cute."

"She was out on the pitch earlier sitting with everyone," Victoire said, and now Jack realized who they were talking about. She'd been the one smiling at him and had spoken to him when he was leaving. She _was_ cute.

"Well," Durrin said, grinning a little. "She had a lot of questions about you. Very interested in knowing your story, if you know what I mean."

"Really?" Louis asked, now grinning across the table. His interest seemed about as piqued as Jack's.

"Yes, really," said Durrin, giving Jack a playful nudge. "Thinks you're cute. Was certainly impressed by your skills out there today."

Jack didn't really didn't know what to say, but he cracked a small smile. Seriously? She—a fifth-year—thought he was cute? He'd really made that much of a mark? He looked around the room. He now suddenly wondered if she was here.

"Uhh, you can't," Dominique said. "She's a Hufflepuff Chaser. That's…" She let her brow furrow, "…fraternizing with the enemy."

Jack and Louis both pulled faces, while Victoire muttered something about that being the dumbest thing she'd ever heard. It was Durrin who matter-of-factly added, "That's the best thing to do with the enemy."

"It's a bad idea to mix up that sort of thing in the middle of the season," Dominique said. "Especially with as well as we're doing right now. Maybe it's a trick to try and bust up our season?"

"Or she may just be keen on him and want to get to know him," Victoire muttered.

"Seriously," Louis said, agreeing with Victoire. "Not everything is about Quidditch." He turned back toward Jack. "Ignore her."

He planned on it. He honestly didn't believe what she was saying for a second—and even if he did, he didn't really care. Holly was really cute. And it wasn't everyday he had cute girls wanting to get to know him or smiling at him the way she had earlier.

"Well, if you're keen," Durrin said to Jack, "we'll need to get you two to properly hang out. She's cool." He looked over at Dominique. "And we don't play Hufflepuff again until April, so you've got a few months until you need to worry about her busting up our season."

Dominique wrinkled her nose at Durrin, though Jack, rather eagerly, said, "I'm not worried."

* * *

**#12: House of Cards**

"Time to do this," Dominique said as she finished her breakfast and cast a look down the table toward Jack. "Time to make Ravenclaw cry blood."

"She has such a way with words," Louis said from his seat across from Jack, which caused Jack to grin as he stood. Dominique was right, it was time to head out to the pitch and gear up for their impending match against Ravenclaw in an hour's time. It was their first match of the second term, and they were determined to stay undefeated. They'd handled themselves masterfully against Ravenclaw the first go last term—they just needed to do that again.

"See you down there," Louis offered, which spurred several of the others sitting nearby to wish them luck. The entire table was decked out in their scarlet and gold, though also heavily bundled up. It was particularly cold out today.

"I figure if I just do what I did last time," Dominique was telling Jack as they exited the Great Hall, "and keep close to Giggleswick, then I only need to—"

"Hey, Jack!" called a familiar voice, which had also just emerged from the Great Hall in search of him. It was Holly, the girl he'd been talking to for the last couple of weeks. They hadn't really talked about what they were, but they were hanging out a lot since getting back from the holidays—or as much as possible seeing as they were in different houses and she was in the thick of her O.W.L. year. Still, between classes, in the library, during whatever free time they could figure out, they definitely talked and flirted quite a bit.

Nothing had happened, but it everyday was leading to more and more. He immediately smiled when he saw her; Dominique made a sound that could only be described as annoyed. She mumbled, "Make it quick, would you?" before she walked several paces ahead.

He ignored her, instead focusing on the pretty girl with the bright smile who was directing it solely on him. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said, tugging on the front of his Quidditch robes. "Just wanted to wish you good luck before you got out there."

"Thanks," he said, returning her smile. "Here's hoping we can just put Ravenclaw out of it entirely."

"That would be amazing," she said, looking up into his eyes. "They always play so aggressive that it would be—"

From somewhere behind them, Dominique cleared her throat loudly. When they both turned to look at her, she was standing ten feet away, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression very much, " _Hurry up."_

"I'll catch up," he told her, throwing her a look. As expected, he got an eye roll out of her, but she didn't stick around and turned and set off toward the exit. Jack turned back to Holly and threw her an apologetic shrug.

"It's cool, don't let me keep you," she said, again tugging on the front of his robes. "Good luck out there." She'd stood on tip toes and he'd anticipated her kissing him on the cheek, which she'd done a time or two before when saying goodbye. This time, however, her lips ended up straight on his.

That had completely taken him by surprise, especially for the length it lingered. Five seconds...then ten. Holy shit, this was happening. He'd never kissed anyone before, and this was apparently how his first one was happening. He'd only wished he'd had more notice so that he could be more prepared. As it were, he was afraid he had the lingering taste of breakfast on his breath.

After about twenty seconds, she finally pulled away and smiled at him. He felt his face manage to form a smile, too, despite feeling completely dazed.

"I'd been wanting to do that." she said.

"Me too," he said, laughing just a little. It had made her smile, which he now was rather obsessed with.

"We'll have to try it again some time," she offered, turning to leave. "After you win later? We can pick things up?"

He nodded rather quickly, spluttering out a quick, "OK…" before she waved, wished him good luck once more, and disappeared back into the Great Hall.

Holy shit that happened. He was grinning from ear to ear. All he wanted to do was run back into the Great Hall and tell Louis—brag to him even—but he knew he couldn't do that. Other than it being a completely goonish thing to do, he needed to get out to the pitch. He really needed to focus on Ravenclaw, but how was he supposed to focus on Quidditch when all he could now think about was how soft her lips had felt and how badly he wanted to feel them again?

He suddenly had the energy to run a marathon, but he instead settled for hustling out of the castle and down the path toward the arena, where he met Dominique about halfway. He grinned broadly at her as he leveled his pace with her.

"Took you long enough," she said, glancing sideways at him. "Why are you so bloody happy?"

"Just am," he said, still grinning and not feeling the need to elaborate. All he wanted to do was smile and relive that moment over and over and over again in his head.

"Whatever, weirdo," she said, though within the next few seconds she was back to laying out her strategy for dealing with Giggleswick. Jack was trying really hard to listen, but his head was entirely elsewhere.

And that's where it seemed to remain all during warm-ups and during the pre-match meeting. Durrin had to ask him twice if he was paying attention; Rolly kept on him, telling him his focus was off and that he needed to tighten up. Jack made a point to take a few quiet moments to push the thoughts of snogging Holly literally anywhere else, and instead putting everything into Bludgers and defense. Focus. Focus. Focus.

He felt he'd worked it out by the time the Quaffle was released. Immediately, he was cracking Bludgers at the Ravenclaw Chasers from the jump, but his aim wasn't as tight as usual; he was veering wide. He needed to work it out because Reynolds, Thorpe, and Davies were flying aggressively, as if that was part of their strategy. They kept knocking into Martha, Devon, and their third Chaser—Brielle; they were fouling constantly and stopping short to throw everyone off.

Bradley and Swain, the Ravenclaw Beaters, were attempting to gang up on Martha specifically; keeping her from running the score up as she often did. They were also sending an odd amount of Bludgers straight at Durrin, which didn't make much sense to attack the Keeper unless their goal was to play rather dirty.

"Keep an eye on the Seeker!" Rolly shouted to Jack, which was something he usually would have been on top of, but apparently needed reminding today. He turned to find Giggleswick diving on the left side of the pitch, Dominique on his tail, but it looked to be a fake out. The Snitch was nowhere in sight. He went back to following the Chasers, sending a rather hard Bludger in the direction of a passing Thorpe—though missing. Dominique could handle Giggleswick.

Gryffindor was putting up the points, but Ravenclaw was keeping things even. The crowd continued to boo and cheer, though Jack wasn't sure as to what because the match was truly that tight. He really wasn't playing as well as he usually would, seeing as he'd barely hit a quarter of his targets. Davies had practically hopped over a Bludger he'd sent at him at half strength.

Shit, he needed to focus.

Thorpe was passing to Reynolds, who was flying it down the length of the pitch. Rolly got the jump on a Bludger and cracked it at him, allowing Devon to steal the Quaffle. Now Devon was running it back to the other end, but it looked as if the Ravenclaw Keeper deflected it. A sudden Bludger went cracking across the pitch toward Dominique and Giggleswick, who were again neck and neck chasing each other, though Jack wasn't sure if the Snitch was there or not. Both Seekers dodged it, and Jack rushed to retrieve it; feeling as though he should get a crack in on Giggleswick since he was so close now.

He got in front of the Bludger and waited for it, seeing that both Dominique and Giggleswick had stopped diving and were now shouting at each other. He swung his bat back and propelled the Bludger towards Giggleswick, who heard the crack and went to dodge it. Jack immediately swore; how did he miss him? What was wrong with him today?

Another Bludger came hurtling toward him, and he got ahead of it to allow himself a huge crack at it. He wasn't aiming it at anyone; he wasn't even trying to. He'd hit it more out of frustration due to him playing like shit right now. He watched it sail off toward one of the goal posts, but it only took him roughly two seconds after he'd done it to realize he'd made a mistake.

Henry Davies flew by him just then, and while he didn't possess the Quaffle, he was flying with a purpose—as if to intercept a pass or carry out some route the Ravenclaws were running. On a normal day, Jack would have seen that a mile away and stopped him before the Ravenclaws could execute their plan, but now, he'd left Davies wide open to finish whatever it was he was doing. It was a really sloppy move on his part.

Everything that happened next occurred very fast. Davies continued to fly, passing behind Dominique, who was searching the pitch for the Snitch and none the wiser to his presence. Jack watched him get oddly close to her, which was rather unusual for a Chaser to try and box in a Seeker. That was a move Chasers used on each other, it didn't make sense for him to—

Davies grabbed the back of her broom and yanked it to the left—a really dirty play—which caused her to slip, lose her grip, and spin. Her face hit the handle of her broom with a thud and she tumbled off in the next second. She'd just managed to get a hand on the broom, though Jack could see from where he was that she was bleeding. She'd taken that handle to the face hard.

"Time out!" Jack called, but it fell on deaf ears. Hooch was well across the pitch, watching the Ravenclaws fight for the Quaffle.

"Where's the foul!?" Rolly had yelled out, having come zipping across the pitch and reaching Dominique first. She seemed to be struggling to pull herself back on, so he positioned himself to help her.

"Nic, are you alright?" Jack had asked once he reached her, watching her get back on her broom properly with Rolly's help. All she did was wipe the blood off of her face with her sleeve, narrow her rage filled eyes on something, and then zoom off without a word.

"That was fucking blatant!" Rolly yelled, looking livid himself. "Where our fucking foul! Absolute bollocks." He looked at Jack. "Where the fuck were you on that?"

"How was I supposed to know he was going to do that!?"

"You're covering the left, so cover the bloody left!" Rolly shouted. "That means all the fuckers who fly into it!"

He flew off at that, and Jack found himself angry with so many things at the moment. Himself, for ultimately letting his guard down and not knocking Davies off when he usually would have; with Ravenclaw, for playing dirty as hell today; with Davies for purposely trying to break his teammate; with Rolly for yelling at him as if he'd personally been responsible.

The match went on for fifteen more minutes, with Jack still never quite getting the hits he was usually capable of. He was lucky that the rest of the team was still on their game and that Dominique, with the anger of a thousand suns burning through her, channeled that all into capturing the Snitch in a rather epic fashion before Giggleswick could even see it. The final score was 340 to 210—Gryffindor won.

There was a roar of a cheer, though upon landing, it wasn't the usual dogpile to celebrate a job well done. Durrin and Martha seemed aggravated and were clearly having tense words with Reynolds, Thorpe and Davies. Rolly was loudly calling out how Gryffindor was lucky to win given all the fouls. The Ravenclaw Beaters were telling Rolly he was off his head and that they'd played clean, which prompted him to point over to where Dominique landed across the pitch, tending to her nose.

"That shit Davies pulled was not clean."

"I didn't pull anything," Davies said. "If I did anything, it was an accident."

Jack immediately felt his face get hot. Y _es, you did, you stupid fuck._ He'd seen him do it.

"Accident my arse!" Rolly said, shouting it before Jack could. "He tipped her broom on purpose!"

"Did you see it?" Reynolds asked. "Because he just said he didn't."

"Yes, pretty boy, I saw it," Rolly snapped.

"Who are you calling—?"

"Alright, let's not..." Durrin said, holding his hand up between the irate looking Rolly and the challenged looking Reynolds. "We're all friends here. We're just heated, let's not say anything we'll regret. Weasley took a tumble, so obviously something happened."

Jack felt someone appear beside him, and turned to see Dominique standing there. He noticed that she still had a smear of blood on her cheek. For someone who'd just won the match in quite the epic fashion, she looked murderous. Her eyes were still narrowed; her jaw tense. He'd wanted to apologize and say he really should have had her back; that he should have stopped that foul and she could blame him, but instead he said nothing. He was afraid to say anything to her after seeing that look in her eyes.

"It was Davies?" she asked him, her voice low and her eyes never leaving the Ravenclaws across the pitch.

He nodded. "Yeah. He's—"

She didn't wait around for him to finish. She marched straight across the pitch toward where Davies was standing and still listening to the back and forth. Jack immediately swallowed. Something bad was about to happen.

"It was an accident," Reynolds kept repeating. "A shitty accident, sure, but an accident nonetheless. If it had been flagrant, why didn't Hooch call it?"

"Because it wasn't," Giggleswick suddenly said, having also just joined the group. "I saw the whole thing. Weasley was playing it up."

"That's not true!" Jack said. "You weren't even around, so you can't say—"

"Mate," said Davies, who looked surprised by this entire confrontation. "It really was an accident."

"I'm not your mate," Jack said.

Davies rolled his eyes, though he let his gaze settle on Dominique. He was either very brave or had a death wish to even address her, but with an awkward sort of sigh, he mumbled, "Look, I'm sorry you got hurt, Weasley, but it really was an accident."

Her eyebrow rose slowly. "You're full of shit."

Everyone who was still standing there turned to look, but no one said a thing.

Davies looked away and let out a noise of doubt, as if he didn't know what else there was to say. He shrugged and looked at the ground. "I'm clearly not going to change your mind, so…believe what you want."

"I will," Dominique said.

"Whatever…" Davies muttered, looking annoyed. "I don't even know why we're having this conversation. Didn't you win? Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

"Yeah, he's right," Durrin said, gesturing for all of his team to head in the opposite direction. "Let's go Gryffindors. Back to the changing rooms."

"Yeah, Ravenclaws follow suit," Stuart said, and Jack watched as he and Durrin exchanged a sort of, " _what the fuck is happening?"_ look between the two of them.

Jack tried to catch Dominique's eye, remind her that she'd won the bloody match and that they should just forget about it. Why ruin an otherwise celebratory moment over that arsehole?

But she was still glaring at Davies, who had turned to follow his team back to their changing room. He'd only taken a few steps though, before he stopped quite suddenly and turned back around. As he continued to walk backwards, he added, "You know, word of advice, Weasley. If you can't handle getting banged up out there, then perhaps you shouldn't play." He shrugged and turned his back on her. "It's not exactly a delicate sport."

Was this kid serious? Jack immediately let his gaze shoot back to Dominique, his eyes wide and his head shaking. "Don't…" he started to say to her, but it was too late. It was as if something in her flipped—as it often did when she was this angry. He could practically see the fire in her eyes and her jaw clench. Jack tried to step in front of her, but she brushed him aside as though he wasn't even there. She took off after Davies immediately.

He didn't even know it was coming until it was already too late. In a matter of seconds she had approached him, gotten in front of him, and before his eyebrows could even slant inward on his brow to display his evident confusion in what was happening, she picked up her knee and rammed it square into his crotch.

"Oh, shit," Jack whispered.

As if knocking over a house of cards, Davies reached for where he'd be hit as his legs buckled from underneath him. He fell to his knees, just as a painful mixture of a groan and a yelp escaped his mouth, and he lowered himself the rest of the way to the ground. After about ten seconds, he yelled—very loudly—"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Dominique stared down at him, and with a lazy shrug she said, "If you can't handle getting banged up, then perhaps you shouldn't run your mouth."

"You've got to be joking…" said Durrin, who had doubled back to see what had happened.

"What the…?" said Thorpe, who along with Reynolds had also returned to see what the commotion was all about.

"You are absolutely mental," Reynolds said, starting over at Dominique with wide eyes as he bent down to tend to Davies. From across the pitch, those who had straggled into the changing rooms were now rushing to retrieve anyone who had already gone inside, causing people to reappear to see what was happening. In the stands, the people who still remained were pointing and gawking. It was only a matter of time before the story broke out.

Durrin sighed loudly, looking directly at Dominique. "You may as well just go straight to Longbottom's office and save yourself the time."

She shrugged in a way that clearly said it was worth it, now watching as Hooch was making her way across the pitch toward them in a hurried manner.

Jack looked back at her; she was resolutely bracing herself for the impending scolding she was going to get. He looked back at Davies, who had finally pulled himself half up and was glaring daggers at her. Jack almost felt bad for him. Dominique did not let things go easily, and this was probably not the last time she'd attempt to make his life hell. He was in for it now.

If only he'd had paid attention to where he'd hit that bloody Bludger.

* * *

**#13: Balls and Stick**

"So, your girlfriend dumped you because you hit her?" Jiffy said as he and Jack sat lounging across the sofas, snacking on crisps in the living room on a late August day.

Jack pulled an immediate face. When he put it that way, it made him sound like a monster.

"I didn't hit her," he argued. "I…" He took a deep breath. He'd explained the rules of Quidditch to his brother a hundred times before, but it apparently never stuck. "I mean, I used my bat to knock a Bludger at her and that hit her, yes. But I didn't hit- _hit_ her. I'm not an arsehole."

"I'm not seeing the difference," Jiffy said, a smirk playing on his lips.

It was the first time Jack had seen his brother since the Easter holidays. Jiffy had moved out earlier in the year—to Belfast with some friends—and currently spent his days working shitty part time jobs that allowed him to play gigs with his band at night. He was avoiding getting a steady job despite everything their father lectured him about, but ultimately, he seemed quite happy—even if their parents were nervous about it all.

He was only an hour away—Jack had debated on making the trip down to see him—but he'd claimed to never have a free weekend. Just today, Jif had managed to make the trip to the house in the hopes to see Jack before he left back for school for his fifth-year. It was why he was only now—despite it being months after the fact— finding out that Jack's first relationship had gone to shit.

He and Holly had had a few good months. They'd gone on a few dates, done a lot of snogging, done a bit more than snogging, and enjoyed some laughs. He'd almost sensed the end was in sight before it actually happened when she had started to really buckle down on her O.W.L. studies, which meant the two—who already struggled to see each other given that they were in different years and houses—made a lot of concessions. Seeing each other multiple times a day turned into once a day; then maybe once a day if they were lucky.

But it all came to a grinding halt on the day that Gryffindor played Hufflepuff. He'd been really trying hard to make up for how poorly he'd played against Ravenclaw, and despite having a great outing against Slytherin, he still felt he had more to prove when their final regular season match against Hufflepuff came up.

He didn't know why he did it. Gryffindor was winning. The score was lopsided in their favor; they were going to win regardless. Still, Holly had the Quaffle and was on a breakaway toward the rings. He had an open shot at her and Bludger right in his path. Before he could even really give it much thought, he'd sent it straight at her, knocking her hard in the side and forcing her to lose the Quaffle. It had been a hard hit.

"Did you just knock the shit out of your girlfriend?" Dominique had asked seconds after it had happened, having pulled up beside Jack on her broom. She was staring at him, looking almost impressed. "Seriously?"

Jack was now realizing exactly what he'd done. He felt his breath catch in his throat. "I'm in trouble."

"Yeah, you are." She laughed. "But at least you stopped her. Well done, mate."

Gryffindor would end up winning by 260 points. Holly had a huge mark on her shoulder where his Bludger had struck her; it didn't look pretty. She was so angry with him that she broke up with him on the spot; she claimed she couldn't believe he'd have done that. He truthfully couldn't believe it either, despite everyone on his team reassuring him that he'd just done what he'd been put on the team to do. Dominique had told him multiple times that Holly was overreacting, and he was better off if she was going to be a baby about it.

"She needs to get over it," she'd told him.

He felt it best perhaps not to remind her she was still trying to trip, shove, or curse Davies every time she saw him in the corridors if "getting over it" was the appropriate reaction.

"It's different," Jack said, throwing an now empty crisp bag across the sofa at his brother, "because while, yes I hit her, I didn't actually hit her. The way you say it makes me sound as if I—"

"What did you just say?" came the voice of his mother, who had appeared from somewhere behind him. When he turned, he saw she was carrying a laundry basket, though he was more focused on her face. She looked as if she was trying desperately to figure out what exactly she's just heard.

"No, Mam," he began to protest. "You don't understand—"

"You hit someone?" she said, sounding horrified. "You hit _a girl_?"

Jiffy eyes went wide, but he was quickly now dissolving into silent laughter. Jack started shaking his head. "No, Mam, it's not how it sounds—"

"Jack Joseph Ians," she said, her voice rising and almost shaking. "I cannot believe…" She looked away. "Your father and I did not raise you to…" She honestly looked completely disturbed. "You've never, ever, shown signs of…."

"Mam, it's Quidditch," he said, though—of course—his father chose that moment to walk into the room, having obviously heard the distressing tone in his wife's voice. He looked confused, but didn't even have a chance to ask any questions since…

"John, I just overheard your son claiming he hit a girl."

"I didn't—!"

"What?" his father snapped, his eyes rounding on Jack. "You did what?"

"Oh, this does sound bad," Jiffy quipped as he popped more crisps into his mouth.

"Jif, not now!" said their father, and he looked livid. Both of their parents did. Jack rarely ever saw them this angry, and it was almost entirely directed at Jiffy—like when he'd been brought home by the police, twice, for being in places he shouldn't have been. Jack was the good one; the well-behaved one. He never got that look.

"It was during a Quidditch match!" Jack yelled. "I hit her with a Bludg...a ball. I'm supposed to do that. That's my job on the team. I've told you all that! I didn't hit—" He mimed swinging his fists, "anyone."

Both of his parents stared at him, though the anger seemed to dissipate slightly. His father especially seemed to be putting together the pieces, though his mother still seemed concerned.

"Quidditch," Jack repeated. "I wouldn't hit a girl. I wouldn't hit anyone if I could help it."

"You've hit me," Jiffy said.

"Because you hit me," Jack retorted. "And it's been ages. And you probably deserved it."

"Boys," said their father, holding his hands up. "Lay off."

"I don't like to hear that you're hitting girls in this Quidduck thing, Jack," said his mother. "It doesn't seem right."

"Quid-ditch…"

"That seems sexist, Mam," said Jiffy, a tone of amusement in his voice. "You think Jacky's supposed to just let them pass because they're girls?"

"They do sign up for it," Jack argued. "They know what they're getting themselves into. And trust me, plenty of them could destroy me if they wanted. They can handle it."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she muttered, but she didn't look as angry anymore. "Maybe it would be easier to understand if we could just see what the Quidduck stuff was all about."

Jack sighed. He'd love that. His family always had so many questions about the sport he was so excited about playing; it would be nice for them to be able to see him—see anyone—play. He'd shown them the books and magazine, and he'd bobbled just off the ground around the back garden on his broom trying to show them what it was about; they seemed to understand the general premise, but nothing could make up for seeing him actually flying around on his broom. He hated that they couldn't watch him in a proper match.

It was beyond frustrating that there was so much of his world that he couldn't show them. He wasn't allowed real magic outside of school until he was seventeen, and had it not been for the broom and the Floo Network allowing him to come and go, he legitimately would have had nothing to show for his years spent at Hogwarts so far. He sometimes wondering why they believed him when he claimed it was all real, but yet they did. They joked about it, but they did.

His mother took the laundry and exited the room, while his father threw him a very tired look; one that Jack returned it with a cheeky smile. He was trying to hide it, but he distinctly saw his father smirk as he left the room.

"Well," Jiffy said once the silence had settled and it was again the two of them. "I think the moral of the story is: don't hit girls with your balls and stick."

Jack let himself snicker. "But I have to."

"Not if you ever want _your_ balls and stick ever touched," Jiffy offered, again making Jack laugh. "Maybe just avoid hitting the girls you're keen on?"

"Good advice," Jack agreed. "I need to stay away from the girls I play Quidditch with."

* * *

**#14: Puppies**

"Why does she have to fancy _him_?" Louis said as he and Jack found themselves parked in the shade of Louis' front porch after having returned from a day out. They'd spent the day with Flynn, mucking around Muggle London before eventually returning to Diagon Alley to purchase all of their school supplies—which was what they should have been doing all along. It had been Louis' idea to go into London, seeing as Dominique wasn't there to shoot the suggestion down like she usually would since she was at a Harpies match with her aunt.

It had been nice; a proper lads' day to talk and laugh. They'd caught a bus and rode it around London for a couple of hours; they'd walked into the more touristy parts and marveled at the Muggles taking hundreds of photos with their mobiles out; attempting to find their way around and how to get from place to place.

Jack had amused both Louis and Flynn with his own mobile phone, which his parents had given him for the summer since he always seemed to be on the move these days. It wasn't anything special—a much older model phone that his mother didn't use anymore—but Louis and Flynn were positively thrilled to play around with it. They took dumb photos, watched Youtube videos, and Jack even taught them both how to text; blowing up his brother's phone with random messages and emojis until he'd finally gotten a call from Jiffy telling them all to fuck off.

They'd even run into a small pack of really cute Muggle girls while window shopping, and for once in his life, Jack felt he had the complete upper hand on Louis—at least, once they started talking. Naturally, Louis' good looks brought them in, but his awkwardness about Muggle topics—like current events that Jack was actually caught up on after a summer at home, or just normal slang and habits—made the girls randomly gravitate more toward him than Louis or Flynn.

That wasn't to say Louis' charm and smile didn't keep them hanging on, but when one wanted to put their phone number in his mobile—which he didn't understand—and all he could do was claim he didn't have one. He'd told them Jack did and they could put it in his, but it was clear the girls found that odd.

"Everyone has a phone in the Muggle world," Jack explained to Louis once they'd found themselves on their own again. "And you don't share, so when you pointed at me, it was weird."

Louis, who wasn't used to not being the epitome of cool, tried to play it off. "Whatever, her friends still gave you her number thingy. That's good right?" He nudged him.

"Yeah, but we're back to school in a week, so nothing's going to come of it," Jack said, glancing down at his phone before shoving it in his pocket.

They'd gone back to Diagon Alley and run into loads of people from school also doing their shopping. Holly had been there with some friends, and Jack had been surprised to get a polite nod out of her, though she didn't speak to him. Liam Pepperdine was there with Michael Ellison and Almac Levin. They had apparently been chatting up some girls, and given what they said, it seemed that Ellibit Collins was quite keen on Michael and that something was happening there.

Jack ran into Durrin and Stuart Reynolds at Quality Quidditch Supplies, hearing from the former—once Flynn asked where Elizabeth was—that Reynolds and her had split up. Jack and Flynn were shocked, but Louis claimed to have already heard something from Victoire about it earlier in the summer. They always seemed so happy, but it just went to show that you never really know what's happening in people's lives.

They'd found Lira Chin in Flourish and Blotts, who proudly told them she'd been made a Prefect, which she and Louis proceeded to talk about since he'd been made one as well. She suspected Ansel Baileymoore would have also been made one from Ravenclaw, while Louis said he'd heard from Flynn that Sarah was his counterpart in Gryffindor. He was particularly excited about that.

"I mean, he's a git," Louis muttered, glancing over at Jack from the spot on his porch where he'd lazily kicked his feet up on the railing and faced out at the sea that his house sat upon. "What does she see in him?"

Sarah. He was talking about Sarah and her current fixation with Robbie Andrews, a Slytherin sixth-year who lived in the same neighborhood she and Flynn did. According to Flynn, who lived four houses down from Sarah and spent a fair bit of time hanging around her, Sarah had been hung up on Robbie since they were smaller, and the two recently had been very flirty. Robbie seemed to be playing things hot and cold with Sarah, while she evidently wanted more. This news was especially aggravating to Louis, who had developed a crush on Sarah at the end of last term and was—honestly—not used to not having his feelings not immediately reciprocated.

Jack shrugged as he felt a sudden vibration in his pocket. "I can't say that I've ever given Robbie Andrews much thought, mate."

"I don't get it," Louis muttered as Jack checked his phone. It was his mother. She'd texted him to ask if he was going to be around for dinner. He was surprised to see it since he'd never had great reception out at the Weasleys' house.

"What's that, then?" Louis asked from his spot. "You getting one of those text things?"

Jack nodded, shooting his mother back a quick 'yes.'

"That seems a lot faster than owls," Louis muttered. "Makes me think our kind needs to work something out. I mean, there are Patronuses, but people our age can't work those. And not everyone is connected to the Floo Network to communicate..."

"We really do," Jack muttered, putting his phone away. "Do you know how much faster it would be for me to text rather than owl?"

"True, but would you trade that for, say, Apparition?" Louis asked, looking over at him.

That was true. He thought about how his brother claimed to spend hours on the road getting from place to place. Being able to Apparate one day was well worth dealing with owls. But truthfully, why couldn't they have both?

"Was the message from those girls we met earlier?" Louis asked.

"No, just my mam."

Louis nodded. "Shame. The blonde one with the pretty face, she seemed really keen on you." He smiled at him. "Just saying. You've got a thing for blondes."

"I've got a thing for girls," Jack said, returning the smile. "I don't care what hair color they have."

Louis laughed. "You always seem to gravitate toward the blondes is all. I've noticed that." He looked over at him. "I'm trying to think who at school might—"

"Don't start," Jack said. "If there's someone at school, I haven't met her yet. I'm open to any and everyone. My one rule is that they can't play Quidditch so they won't complain when I side-swipe them off their broom."

Louis again started to laugh. "It doesn't hurt to speculate a bit."

"Speculate all you want," Jack muttered. "There aren't many to choose from since you've dated most of the girls—"

"I have not," Louis protested. "I've dated three girls and none were serious. They're not off limits, so if you're interested in someone.."

"I'm not," Jack said, his gaze faraway on the waves crashing on the shore. He didn't feel like elaborating that outside of the girls Louis had properly dated, he'd also had little flings with many of the others. Snogs at a party or some light hand-holding in Hogsmeade. And these were just the ones who had gotten his attention; it wasn't counting the throngs that would happily queue up for it if he let them. The number of girls at school that Jack was A) attracted to and B) weren't either into Louis was very, very small. It probably left about three—and they all had other boyfriends.

But he was keen for something, because after experiencing his first relationship, he wanted to do it again. He'd liked having a girlfriend; he'd like having someone to kiss and hold and be with. And yeah, the touching and feeling part had been a lot of fun, but he'd really just enjoyed having someone who was—for lack of a better term—his. Someone to talk to, laugh with, count on while surrounded by this bubble of happy feelings. He'd really enjoyed all of that.

But, who knew when that would happen again. He'd have to meet someone first.

The door to their house suddenly opened and out popped Dominique. She seemed to be investigating what was happening out here, taking immediate notice of the pair of them.

'You're back," Louis said, lazily glancing over to her. "How was the match?"

"Good," Dominique offered, telling them both—though Jack specifically—some of the finer things she'd witnessed on the pitch with the Harpies win over the Appleby Arrows. She seemed to be riding a post match high, and was especially keen to want to try out a particular dive she saw.

"So, why don't you?" Louis asked, the summer heat and the calming sounds of the sea seemingly making him look as drowsy as Jack felt.

"Sarah's coming by in a bit, so I can't. Maybe tomorrow."

That woke Louis up. He dropped his feet off the railing. "Is she?"

Dominique nodded and said, "Yes, she's spending the night." She took a seat in a nearby chair, glancing over at Jack. "Are you sticking around as well? We can go fly first thing in the morning if you are. Sarah sleeps in late like Louis does."

As she spoke his phone vibrated in his pocket once more and he reached to grab it, all while shaking his head. "I'm headed home in a wee bit."

"Guess, I'll have to try this dive out on my own."

"I can still come by to fly in the morning if you want someone to show it to," he added, checking his phone to see that his mother had acknowledged his response. Louis, meanwhile, had stood without a word and ventured back into the house. Jack had a sneaking suspicion he was off to clean himself up upon the news of Sarah's arrival.

"It's up to you," Dominique said in a lazy way as a silence fell between the pair of them. This was fairly normal.

Jack pulled up a video his brother had sent him the night before of some morons intentionally trying to get hit by their parent's car as part of a prank. He snickered a little, watching as the one bloke got clipped by the rearview mirror and felt to street yelling.

"What are you doing?" Dominique asked.

"Watching a video," he said, looking up at her. "This git is trying to get hit by a car."

She made a face. "Why?"

"So he can go viral." He realized then that he may as well be speaking Greek to her, and proceeded to attempt to explain the internet and how getting famous for something you post was a thing people strived for.

She still looked confused, so he handed her the phone. She watched the video—twice—but again, it still didn't seem to be clicking with her why someone would do that for a few, ultimately unnecessary, moments of fame.

"Because they're dumb and it's sort of funny," Jack said once she handed him the phone back. "But it's not just stuff like that. You can put anything out there. People make stuff up, people act stuff out. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's serious. A lot of the time it's just stupid."

"And Muggles just sit around wasting their time watching it?"

Jack nodded quickly. "It can be addicting."

"Sounds stupid," she said, shaking her head.

"It is," Jack offered, "but it's also got a lot of educational stuff and then—" He clicked over to another video that was linked; something with about ten small, sweet little puppies running amok in a paddling pool, "also puppies."

He flipped the phone around to show her, half expecting her to roll her eyes and wonder what the hell he was showing her, but she instead let her eyes grow wide with a funny sort of excitement. She immediately leaned in closer. "Oh, they're cute."

In the four years he'd known Dominique, he'd never heard her use the word cute in a non-ironic sort of way. She'd used it to tease Louis, but never properly and never with an actual smile on her face.

"You like puppies?" Jack asked, grinning at her despite her eyes never leaving the screen.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" she asked, smiling in a way Jack was almost startled to witness. "My mum's not a pet person, so we've never been allowed anything fun. Victorie had a fish once...until it died." She laughed at something on the video. "Awww."

Jack couldn't help but laugh at her; only because it was rather startling to watch her melt into a puddle of goo over some puppies. It was nice to see she had this side of her. It made her a bit softer, less intimidating.

"There's loads of these," Jack said, swinging the phone around to start searching for more puppy videos for her. "Other animals, too. Cats, bunnies, you name it. Muggles put everything on the internet. And I mean everything. Their entire lives."

"Really?" she asked, her tone still excited as she suddenly pulled her chair right up beside his. "Do they not want privacy?"

"Some don't," he said. "They're happy letting everyone see everything they do."

"Even having sex?"

Jack stopped searching videos of Golden Retrievers to glance at her. She'd managed to make that question seem both scandalous and innocent at the exact same time. "Um, yeah. There are loads of places on the internet for that."

She gawked. "And that's normal?"

"Er…" He wondered how he should answer that. "I wouldn't exactly say normal. I mean, you wouldn't sit around with the family and watch it—"

"Do you watch it?"

He felt himself turning a bit red. "I...um...well, it's uh…" He took a deep breath. "I...um…"

"Can I see?" she asked. Again, her questions seemed entirely innocent and curious. She genuinely seemed to be inquiring about what she assumed to be a Muggle hobby instead of asking him to show her porn, in the middle of the afternoon, on her front porch.

"Uh, not now," he said, clicking the first puppy video he saw and watching as a fluffy sheepdog puppy came bounding onto the screen. "Let's stick to puppies."

"It's so fluffy," she said, smiling again as she leaned in closer to him in order to get a better view of the screen. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how close she was, seeing as if she moved any closer, their heads would be touching. She didn't seem to notice in the least, and was instead watching the dog play with a ball.

He let himself look at her out of the corner of his eyes, and found he couldn't help but grin a little. Who knew it only took a couple of cute puppies to get this sort of reaction? Maybe puppies were the secret to winning girls over. Shame, his phone wouldn't work at Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all of you checking this out and leaving feedback! :)


	4. Fifth Year

**Fifth Year**

* * *

**#15: Below the Belt**

Sex.

It seemed almost everyone in Jack's circle of friends seemed currently obsessed with it, despite no one properly having it. If he, Louis, or Flynn could go more than ten minutes without bringing it up in some capacity, they were probably asleep. Even then, it usually crept itself in. It had become all consuming—the idea of it, the interest in it, the questions about it, the jokes, the thoughts, the urges. Sex seemed to be everywhere.

Even the girls would talk and allude to it, and it was starting to become difficult to focus on anything else there was to do. Which, considering this was a O.W.L. year and they needed to focus on actual, non-sex related studies, it caused a bit of an issue.

"It's a quiz," Natalie offered the group of them who were sharing a compartment on the train back to Hogwarts. She was reading from a magazine, and from beside her Flynn glanced over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. She immediately snatched the magazine away so he couldn't look. Dominique, who was sitting sideways in her seat and leaning into the corner of the compartment, suddenly pulled her own Quidditch magazine up to obscure her face. She had a very short fuse for Natalie, who'd been talking a lot this train ride.

Jack, who was beside Dominique and had been casually reading the Quidditch magazine with her when it had been in her lap, now found himself with nowhere else to look but at Natalie. He blinked and braced himself for what she was about to share with them.

"Who wants to take it?" Natalie asked, glancing specifically at Louis. He was currently playfully kicking Sarah's feet as he sat across from her; the two having a bit of a laugh after just having returned from their Prefect meeting minutes earlier. Jack nudged him since Natalie was clearly trying to get his attention—she always was—which caused Louis to look up rather startled.

"What?" he asked. "What are we doing?"

"I've got a silly quiz," Natalie said, smiling at him coquettishly. Natalie's crush on Louis had to be at it's bursting point. She'd been nursing it for years, mostly quietly, but in the few hours they'd been reunited on this train, she clearly was ready to put everything out there. She laughed at everything he said that was remotely funny—and he wasn't that funny—and she agreed with everything he commented on, even if it was something mundane. She'd been talking so much the entire ride that Jack didn't think anyone else—other than Louis—had gotten more than a few words in. Dominique had actually told her to shut up five times and counting.

She had shut up for a bit, once Louis had left to attend his Prefect meeting. Jack could visibly see her deflate like a balloon when he'd left; she'd mostly been silent the entire hour and a half he was gone. That had been a nice hour. He and Dominique had compared the newer broom models, and he and Flynn had tried to throw and catch Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in their mouths from across the compartment at impressive angles before giving up to play Exploding Snap.

But when Louis had come back, Natalie was back to talking a mile a minute.

"Yeah, alright," Louis said with a lazy shrug, throwing Sarah one last smile and a kick at her ankle.

Sarah pulled her legs up underneath her. "What's it about then, Nat?"

"It's a purity test," she said, happy to have everyone—or at least Louis' attention. "I ask questions and you have to say if you've done it or not."

"That'll be a short quiz," Dominique muttered from behind her magazine. "How much sexual experience do you think anyone here has?"

That was a fair point. Jack wasn't sure about the girls—though he was happy to hear what they had to contribute—but he knew between him, Flynn, and Louis that Louis had the most experience out of any of them. He'd gone so far as to have gotten himself a blowjob last year from Jen Carrington—a Ravenclaw fifth-year. He'd also fingered her on multiple occasions, and he had said they once came close to having sex before they'd gotten interrupted. They'd split up before anything else happened.

Jack hadn't done much more than snogging and heavy petting. He'd gotten himself felt up a bit when he'd been with Holly; she'd tugged and pulled a bit on his erection when they were very into kissing once, but nothing came from it—least of all him. He didn't considered that a handjob, though Flynn said it counted. Then again, Flynn also claimed to have gotten a proper handjob from a girl who lived in his neighborhood, though Jack wasn't entirely sure he believed him.

"It's not as if we have anything better to do," Natalie said, making herself more comfortable in her seat. "Alright, question one. Raise your hand if you've kissed someone."

Everyone but Dominique raised her hand. Jack wasn't sure if that was because she wasn't playing or she actually hadn't. He could easily believe the latter, seeing as she'd never once shown interest in anyone and...didn't seem to want to? But didn't everyone want to? He could barely stop staring at girls lips and imagining how they might feel on his. Surely, she had some sort of urges?

"With tongue," Natalie continued, and everyone raised their hands once more. They all kept their hands raised for "Kissing horizontally" and "Given or received a love bite" before Dominique suddenly shut her magazine and stood.

"I'm going to find the food trolley."

"Have fun," Louis said, shutting the door behind her as she walked out. He turned back to the rest of them. "Good, if we're going to keep this up, I really don't need her hearing what I've been up to."

Natalie laughed—yet again— before settling back into the quiz, clearly relishing her role as quiz giver. "Felt a breast or had your felt." She looked up. "I guess over or under the clothes counts."

Jack kept his hand raised then, as long as it was above the clothes. Everyone else did as well.

"Or, same question, but under the clothes."

Jack put his hand down, though he was the only one who did. Maybe he should have lied.

"Been undressed by someone," Natalie said, lowering her hand. Flynn, Sarah, and Louis still had there's up, though Louis was now throwing Sarah a very intrigued sort of look. She shook him off with a quick, "What?"

"Masturbated," Natalie asked, and while she kept her hand down, everyone else seemed to have found that one a bit awkward. Both Jack and Louis' hand bobbled, as if they weren't sure they should admit to that—not with girls present.

Flynn kept his up and shrugged. "Everyone does it." He looked at Jack. "Don't act like you don't." He shot the same look at Louis. "You either, I live with both of you. We all know what it means when the curtains are drawn around the bed in the middle of the afternoon."

Jack and Louis exchanged amused expressions. They did know what that meant, but it still didn't stop either of them from looking a bit awkward by the admission.

Now Flynn was rounding on both girls. "And seriously? Never?"

Natalie was shaking her head. "Never. I swear I've never done it." Sarah, meanwhile, was turning a bit pink. She was avoiding everyone's eyes.

"That's your lying face," Flynn said, pointing at Sarah before rounding on the others. "She's done it. Why would you be embarrassed? Hell, I wank all the time. It's not a big deal."

Jack and Louis both found themselves staring rather raptly at Sarah, both looking as though they would like nothing more than to hear her admit that. Jack honestly thought his brain might explode if she did, so maybe it was better she didn't. She, in turn, was now urging Natalie to move along to the next question.

"Touched someone, or had someone touch you, below the belt," Natalie said.

"What if they're not wearing a belt?" Louis joked with a raised hand, which—again—made Natalie giggle rather unnecessarily.

"Down below," she said with a very knowing smile. "Which leads us to, have someone get you off due to their own manipulation."

"What's that mean?" Flynn asked.

Jack and Louis both made nearly identical hand gestures imitating a wank, while Sarah added, "Someone else got you there."

Natalie and Jack left their hands down, though Sarah, Flynn, and Louis were still going strong. Jack still felt Flynn was bullshitting everyone to seem cooler and more experienced, but Sarah was surprising him. Louis, too, apparently because he kept throwing her a curious smile, and she kept returning it with an innocent looking, "What?"

"Who are you messing around with?" Louis asked.

"None of your business," she said, though Flynn muttered, "Robbie." She shot him a silencing look.

"Given or received oral sex," Natalie said.

Everyone but Louis' hand went down at that. He seemed to be the last man standing. He glanced around a little sheepishly.

"Really?" Natalie asked, looking intrigued. "When?"

Louis finally put his hand down. "Uh, not too long ago."

"With Jen?" Sarah asked. "Wait, are you the giver or the receiver?"

He reached out his leg to tap her legs, which were now back on the floor. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She shrugged, not biting on the line as much as Louis probably wanted her to. However, if he looked just a bit to his right he'd see Natalie was completely ready to bite on that. She was staring at him rather awestruck before glancing back down at her magazine. "The rest just go on from there. Actual sex stuff." She looked back at Louis. "Have you had actual sex?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. Never really worked it out."

"I don't think anyone here has," said Flynn, glancing around though letting his gaze land on Natalie. "I mean, I know none of them have. You're the only one I don't know enough about to claim—"

"I haven't," Natalie said quickly. "But I want to. I do. Eventually."

 _That was random_ , Jack thought, seeing as...didn't all of them want that? It almost seemed as if she was making it very clear to _someone_ that she'd been keen on the idea of it someday.

"Don't we all," Louis said, stretching his legs out and leaving his shoes resting on Sarah's seat. She immediately shoved them back onto the floor.

Natalie shut her magazine. "I'm thinking about being more adventurous this year. I feel sort of left behind. It's probably time to experience more." Her eyes never left Louis as she spoke. "And try more things. With people."

 _What? J_ ack tried hard not to laugh, especially when he caught Sarah throwing Natalie a very, ' _what the fuck?"_ look. Flynn was trying to hide his smirk from Louis, seeing as they all could tell she was making sure Louis knew she was down for sex. Why did this have to be happening while the rest of them were sitting here?

"Really?" Louis asked slowly, his interest piqued.

"Yeah," She smiled at him unabashedly. "Just have to find the right person."

Jack couldn't hold his laughter at that, especially because Sarah had caught his eye that time, looking as if she couldn't handle the second-hand embarrassment of it all.

Louis shoved him then, and thankfully for all of them Dominique returned at the moment with her hands full of candy and a story about a very public row happening down near the front of the train between three Slytherins who were mixed up in some love triangle. Apparently, a couple of curses had been cast.

As they exited the train later that evening, the girls all setting off ahead and disappearing into the crowd, Louis asked both Flynn and Jack, "What do you think of Natalie?"

"I think she's verrrrrrry keen on you," Jack muttered.

"Mate, she would have blown you in that compartment had we not been there," Flynn stammered. "She was practically throwing herself at you." He looked up and down the platform, watching the crowds. "You need to do something about that."

Louis' face was pensive. He was clearly thinking that over. "She's cute."

"She's really cute," Flynn agreed, glancing over at Jack to back him up. Jack shrugged and nodded lamely. Objectively, she was a pretty girl, but she didn't do it for him.

"And got nice arse," Flynn continued. "Plus, she's had it bad for you for ages. Since third year or something."

"Before that, I think," Jack said, watching as the first-years filed past him.

"What did she say back there?" Flynn was asking as they got in the queue to catch a carriage. "She wanted to ' _experience more with the right person?_ '" He threw Louis a wide-eyed look. "As she eye-fucked the shit out of you. C'mon, mate…"

"I know, I heard her," Louis said with a laugh. "It was hot, I'm not going to lie." He sighed. "But she and I don't really have anything in common. She's cute and she seems nice enough, but…" He trailed off.

Jack wanted to suggest, _"But...she's shallow and stuck up?"_ but he said nothing. By the sounds of things, Natalie was probably going to be hanging around a bit more in due time. Best not to let his true feelings out if that were the case.

"There's no real connection," Louis said. "I've never felt much of a spark with her—"

"You can make sparks when you're starkers and having sex with her!" Flynn said

Jack shot Flynn a look. "You act as if Louis can't find someone else who'd be willing."

"Not the one I want," Louis muttered, looking off into the distance and over the heads of the kids in front of them.

Flynn sighed. "Mate, look, I know you like Sarah. I get it. But, you've got to realize that she is so far up Robbie's arse that she can't see daylight. I've watched the two of them back and forth all summer, he strings her along to keep her interested and then pretends she doesn't exist—repeat. You don't even exist right now. No one does. One track mind, that one. You can't wait around for her to, _maybe_ , get over him." He shrugged. "Or she may not. She could end up married to him with four kids one day."

Louis pulled a face.

"And what better way to get her attention than to date her best friend?" Flynn offered.

Jack shot Flynn another look. 'That's the worst fucking advice I've ever heard." He looked back at Louis. "If anything, that's a reason not to date Natalie. If you and her get together, that best friend code kicks in and you're now off limits to Sarah."

"He's off limits anyway because she's into Robbie," Flynn argued. "And that code shit isn't real anyway."

Jack and Louis exchanged looks, before Jack asked, "You'd date your friend's ex?"

"If she was keen," Flynn said. "You shouldn't get to claim people forever because you snogged them way back in, say, third year."

"Good to know where you stand," Jack muttered.

"Whatever, we're getting off topic," Flynn said as they were next in line for a carriage. "Natalie wants to let you do whatever you want to her. Ask her out."

Louis looked at Jack, clearly looking for his input. He personally didn't want to have to deal with Natalie hanging around all the time—or for however many weeks Louis would have her around. She was so stupidly mad about him, that Jack didn't know if he could bear witness to any of it. And if Natalie really did mean what she'd said, then Louis would be having actual sex shortly, which would suck to hear about since as Jack wasn't any closer to talking to a girl while Louis was close to being inside of one.

"If you do it, you might blow any chance you'll ever have with Sarah," Jack said. "Just think about it. Not as if you can't pull other girls."

"Sarah doesn't fancy him!" Flynn yelled, causing several heads of people to turn around and look at them. "Live in the fucking now."

"Even if I did ask her out," Louis said with a sigh. "It probably wouldn't last long. We really have nothing in common..."

As it turned out, it did last long—or at least, longer than Louis' average relationship. With most girls, they usually split for whatever reason after a month or two; three had been his longest. But with Natalie, who he had asked out after being back at school less than a week, they were now passing the three month mark and headed well into December. And they hadn't even had sex yet.

They'd oddly clicked, despite seriously having little shared interests other than snogging and feeling each other up. She worshiped him and he enjoyed the attention; he seemed to find her rather adorable. While Jack often got the impression that Louis still felt this was probably a fling of sorts, the time they'd put into this relationship so far was starting to say otherwise. For someone who'd wanted to pursue this on the basis of hopefully having sex relatively soon, he didn't seem to care that he wasn't having any of it.

That wasn't to say the two of them weren't doing loads of other stuff, which was starting to drive Jack a bit mad considering every time he went to his bedroom now to retrieve something, or relax, or sleep, he would find the door with a sock on it. That was their symbol that the room was currently occupied by some activities that were best not to be interrupted.

"Where is it?" Dominique asked when Jack had come back downstairs empty handed, having run up to get his bat so that they could make it down to Quidditch practice.

"Your brother…" he shrugged, "is busy.'

Dominique's eyes practically rolled out of her head. "With Natalie? _Again?_ Bloody hell. How many times can they…?" She trailed off.

A lot. The answer was a lot. They messed around a lot.

"How long does it take to get a bloody handjob?" Dominique muttered after a few minutes, checking her watch. "We're going to be late. You're going to have to go in and get it."

Jack threw her a look.

"Knock first or something! They're being inconsiderate," she said. "You need your bat."

He did. They had a new Beater this year to replace Rolly—a fourth-year called Tommy—and while he was big and had potential, the kid needed work. Jack couldn't help him without his bat.

"I'm leaving with or without you in one next minute," Dominique said, though luckily for them, Natalie appeared then, coming down the boys' stairs at that very moment. She was on her own and looking as though she'd been rolling around a bit, but Jack immediately knew that meant his room was now free and clear. Dominique swatted him and pointed toward the stairs as if to remind him.

"One minute," Jack said to her, now dashing off toward his room. He'd knocked, but immediately entered and found Louis' bed completely unmade and disheveled, Louis himself was standing beside it, trousers on, but no shirt. His hair was messed up. The room had the stale remnants of a smell alluding to something sweaty having occurred here not long ago.

Louis grinned at him as he entered, though Jack threw him a tired look before heading straight for his trunk. "I've been trying to get to my bat. I've got practice in ten minutes."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," Louis said, though he was still grinning for some reason.

"It is what it is," Jack said as he pulled his trunk open and pulled out the bat he knew was laying straight across the top. He turned to leave. "I'll see you later."

"Wait, before you go." He was pulling his shirt on now. "I need to tell you...tell someone." He smiled wider. "Mate, I just had sex."

Jack let his bat fall lamely to his side. He was both shocked and rather jealous at the exact same time. "Seriously?"

Louis was nodding rather eagerly. "We were just normal messing around and it sort of happened."

Jack felt himself grinning, almost as if he were a proud parent. He'd suddenly forgotten entirely about Quidditch practice. "Yeah? How was it?"

"Good," Louis offered. "I mean, I enjoyed it. I think it hurt a bit for her, but I was being really gentle. I didn't want to hurt it, but, you know, it was the first time for both of us. I was sort of awkward at times, but yeah, good." He was nodding as if that was his final decision on the matter.

"But it felt good?"

Louis was nodding. "Yeah. It felt really good. But the first time is going to be weird. It'll get better. I know it will." He grinned. "I'd do it again."

"Holy shit," Jack muttered, finding that he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask but not knowing where to start. "And did she…?" He suddenly glanced down at the bat in his hand and then remembered where exactly he was supposed to be. "Oh, shit. I'm…Quidditch." He dashed toward the door. "This conversation isn't over."

Louis laughed. "Alright. But hey! Before you go. Don't say anything, would you? Especially to Nic."

Jack turned back just before he'd exited, throwing Louis a funny look. "Why would I tell your sister?"

"I don't know, just in case she asks why you couldn't get your bat or whatever," Louis mumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. "You two talk sometimes."

"We don't really," said Jack. "Especially not about stuff like this. But don't worry, mate. I've got you."

Louis offered him an appreciative smile before Jack took off toward the stairs. Speaking of Dominique, she was probably cheesed off that he'd taken so long. He'd probably have to hear about that; especially once he checked his watch and saw he now had six minutes to make it all the way downstairs and out to the arena. She was going to kill him.

Or, she would have if she'd waited for him. Which she hadn't. Because, of course she hadn't.

* * *

**#16: Wallflower**

Jack checked himself in the mirror once more, making sure he looked nice for the party he was set to attend that night. He moved his hair around a bit, having combed it a bit differently after a haircut he'd gotten just before Christmas. He couldn't seem to get it to settle the way he wanted.

It was the day before New Year's Eve and the weather outside at his house was absolute shit. He was hoping it would be better once he managed to travel the hundreds of miles of way to the Weasleys' house where tonight they were celebrating Victoire's seventeenth birthday. It was a huge milestone in the wizarding world to come of age at seventeen, and it seemed a large party was the way Victoire had chosen to celebrate. According to Louis, most of the school had been invited.

It seemed like an opportunity for a good night. It would be cool to see most of his classmates and people he knew in a non-school setting. Who knew what could happen once you got everyone out of school robes and into a less structured setting? Maybe something exciting for once.

He'd be lying if he didn't have a few things on his mind; mostly to do with girls, who would be dressed up and looking nice. Watching Louis constantly with Natalie—especially now that they'd had sex—was a bit exhausting, but it also had made Jack realize how much he just wanted something simple like that. Someone to hang out with who wanted to touch him sweetly, be with him, hang out with him, spend dull moments with him, smile and laugh at his jokes. The other, more physical stuff would be great too, but he honestly was keen on the idea of all of it.

He couldn't stop thinking about snogging—and about more than snogging, touching, rubbing, feeling; he was starting to feel a wee bit obsessed. His parents had asked him on more than one occasion why he was spending so much of his holiday locked away in his room, and all he could think of to say was that he was tired after a long term at school. His mother would probably send him straight to confession if she knew that it was mostly because he was wanking over some photo, or film scene, or image that popped into his head.

After finally deciding that he looked fine, he grabbed the yellow duck sitting on his desk, headed out of his room, and down the stairs toward the living room.

He knew his brother was here since he had a local gig with his band the following evening for New Years and had come into town the night before. This time, he'd brought along his current girlfriend, a girl called Maddie, who'd actually made it past his usual one month mark for relationships. His brother actually seemed keen on her, though Jack didn't have a lot of faith she'd be around for the long haul since it wasn't in his brother's nature to commit to things long term. She was nice enough; Jack liked her, even if he did find their coupley display rather aggravating. Everyone seemed to have someone except for him.

Their parents found Maddie to be sweet and said as much, though—while she wouldn't admit her—their mum was clearly disappointed when she found out Maddie wasn't Catholic. She wasn't anything according to Jiffy, which suited him just fine since Jack knew for a fact that outside of Mass on Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday—and only because he was home visiting—Jiffy never set foot in church anymore. It seemed their mother had more of a problem with that than anything else.

"Church just isn't my scene," Jiffy had said to them—over Christmas dinner, no less. "Maddie grew up completely secular. She's only even been in a church to go to weddings."

Their mother had sighed and their father was shooting Jiffy a look not to start. She may not have agreed with the way Jiffy was always living his life, but she respected his right to try his own things and be his own person. She'd been the same way with Jack and the entire wizarding thing. It didn't mean she didn't ask the questions.

"It's just always been such a part of your life," she said to Jiffy.

"Because you wanted it to be," Jiffy argued. "Jack and I don't."

Jack looked up over his parsnips. Why was he being brought into this?

"If I end up with a Catholic girl, it'll be because she happens to be one," Jiffy offered. "I'm not seeking them out as a qualifier." He gestured to Jack "And you can't possibly think he's going to bring one home one day?" He looked at his brother. "Does your lot even have religion?"

He shook his head. "Not a specific wizard one. I mean, people have got their beliefs…"

Jiffy turned back to his mother. "See? You might get lucky with me, though even if you do, we'll be the non-practicing types. And," he gestured back to Jack, "you're out of luck with that one."

"I'm not—" Their mother sighed again. "I'm not even thinking about Jack right now. He's too young to even be thinking about girls like that—"

"I am not," Jack argued.

"His constantly locked door says otherwise," Jiffy said, causing his father once again to throw him a look. Jack immediately kicked him under the table.

Thankfully, his mother seemed to miss the dig. "What I meant to say is that he would have to be very serious about someone to bring them around to meet us from all the way where his school is."

"I don't know, that fireplace disappearing trick thing he does seems pretty quick," his father offered.

"He's too young to be getting that serious about girls," she said. "At sixteen it should be more lighthearted and casual. Not serious relationships."

Jack rolled his eyes, but made sure not to let her see it. He was sixteen, not six. He was fairly certain his parents were eighteen and nineteen when they met, and was there really that much of a difference? He was plenty old enough for a real, proper relationship.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he saw that his brother and Maddie were cuddled up rather cozy on the sofa, watching some game show on the telly. Jack caught his brother's eye before lobbing the duck at his head—making sure to avoid Maddie, who he was not looking to pelt.

"Duck," he said as he watched it strike Jiffy straight on the forehead. He turned to grab his coat.

"Berk," Jiffy called over, though he was now examining the duck. "I came up earlier to talk to you, but your door was, once again, locked. Do you make poor Mr. Quackers have to witness the depravity of what's going on in that room of yours lately?" He looked down at the duck. "Is he corrupting you?"

Jack blushed a little, only because Maddie was there and he really didn't need his brother calling attention to his wanking habits in front of her. She, however, didn't seem to have noticed or care. She was currently attempting to answer the puzzle that was currently on the television screen.

"I turn him around," Jack joked. "He's a bit of a pervert, though. Always trying to watch."

The word pervert seemed to have snapped Maddie's attention away from the game and she glanced over at Jack. "Who's a pervert, now?"

"No one, I was joking," Jack began, just as Jiffy said, "It's nothing, love."

"You look really nice," Maddie offered, smiling at Jack as she looked him up and down. "All dressed up. You headed out?"

"I am," Jack said, giving his brother a very particular look. "To a friend's party."

Maddie smiled at him again before turning back to the program and Jack continued to hold his brother's gaze. It made Jiffy finally mumble, "Cool? Have fun."

"I need to leave," Jack said to him, gesturing to the fireplace. He had to obviously Floo over to the Weasleys, but he could not do that with Maddie sitting directly in the center of the room. His parents and brother knew about him being a wizard, but a girlfriend of only a month was not privy to that information.

"Oh," Jiffy said as if realizing, nudging Maddie to stand up. "Fancy a snack? Come on."

She seemed reluctant at first, but eventually Jiffy was edging her toward the kitchen. He quickly turned and told Jack to have a good night and to "put yourself out there, for once." Jack waited until they were entirely out of sight to walk over and grab a handful of Floo Powder that his parents kept on the top of the mantle. With a quick glance around to make sure Maddie was nowhere in sight, he threw the powder down, said, "Shell Cottage" and found himself immediately whipped up in green flames and spinning toward his intended destination.

He stopped at the familiar sight of the Weasleys' living room, which he'd Floo'ed into loads of times since learning how to do it that first summer after starting Hogwarts. The room was currently empty, but there was a busy nature about the place, as if something was about to happen. He could see Fleur in the kitchen from the spot he'd emerged from in the sitting room. She was clearly working on something and finishing up the final details on Victoire's party.

He knew he was early—he'd wanted to avoid the crowds trying to Floo in themselves—but he wasn't sure if he was the first one here or if some of the others were outside already where Louis had said the party was to be held. He glanced around, wondering if he should simply walk straight into the kitchen or announce himself.

"Hello?" he asked, loudly enough that he should be heard in the kitchen. He luckily was, since he could see Fleur stop and attempt to look. She smiled and called, "Hello, Jack!" before then adding in a lower voice, "I just sent Louis upstairs, but he'll be right back. Dominique, go out there until Louis gets back."

There was a scrapping of a chair across the kitchen floor, indicating that Dominique was doing what she was told; Jack walked over and sat on the end of the nearest sofa, brushing ash off of his shoulder. The Weasleys always had a really clean fireplace, which was nice because at some places, like Flynn's house, he'd end up covered in soot and ash. It almost seemed a waste to try and look nice if he was just going to end up looking like a—

"Hey," came Dominique's oddly deflated sounding voice, and when Jack looked up to see her enter, he actually felt as if someone had petrified him to the spot. The only thing he could manage to move were his eyes, which were currently taking in Dominique Weasley looking...She looked...

Holy shit, she looked amazing. She looked like a different person. A well dressed, undeniably attractive person. Her hair was down and brushed out and...had it always been so bloody shiny? Her face, while grumpy, seemed softer...maybe because of her hair being down? It even made her eyes—which, she had always had really lovely eyes—more noticeable. Her dress robes were nice and they fit her in a way that made him realize that she had an actual body under all of those baggy clothes she wore. She'd made a point of being a human hanger for over sized t-shirts and joggers, but these robes showed she'd had something under there that Jack hadn't even bothered to consider until this very second.

She suddenly threw something small that she'd been holding—a grape?—at Jack's face. "Don't you dare say it."

"You look really nice," he said a little breathlessly.

She threw another grape at him. "Stop it."

Her mother had breezed into the room just then, looking immediately put out at Dominique's attitude. "You stop it," she said to her before smiling at Jack. "What she means to say is thank you for the lovely compliment."

"If I meant that, I would have said that," Dominique said through gritted teeth as she went and sat on the opposite side of the sofa beside Jack. She looked rather pouty, but Jack was still struck at how pretty she looked being pouty. He couldn't stop staring at her. This was seriously the same girl he sweated through Quidditch practices with?

Fleur was saying something, but Jack missed most of it until he heard her yell up the stairs to Louis, letting him know that Jack was here. She then turned an almost strange smile onto Jack, letting her eyes bounce between him and Dominique for a moment before adding, "You look very handsome, by the way."

Jack smiled politely. Dominique, who was now looking over at him, said, "Your hair looks funny."

"Dominique!" her mother snapped harshly, before looking at Jack, "It absolutely does not."

Jack reached up to touch it rather self-consciously, while Dominique explained it just looked different. Something about how she wasn't used to seeing it like that, so it was strange. He wanted to tell her the feeling was mutual.

In that instant, gorgeous or not, he was suddenly reminded of exactly who he was dealing with. He'd had a momentary lapse in judgement to think that just because she'd changed her clothes or brushed her hair that she still wasn't the brash, cutting, completely uninterested in all things romantic or sexual person he'd always known. It was as if someone had snapped him out of a spell.

"I mean, it's not that bad, I guess," Dominique offered, still inspecting his hair.

Thankfully, Louis appeared down the stairs just then to save this moment from getting any more awkward; distracting Jack from everything and anything that had happened in the last three minutes.

He led him into back garden, where the Weasleys had set up a tent in between the well worn path he and Dominique often took toward the wood to fly and play Quidditch. Even though it was dark, the sea was well within view, which made for a very lovely atmosphere. Louis had been right, most of the school had turned up—and definitely anyone worth a damn. Victoire was very well-liked and popular, and it seemed not a lot of people had turned down the opportunity to ring in her birthday with her.

Jack clamored around his usual crew of friends. Dominique and Sarah were paired off, seeing as Robbie Andrews was apparently sick with something—much to Sarah's disappointment. Flynn was already bouncing around the room ten minutes in, attempting to chat up every and any girl to dance with him, while Louis and Natalie were very coupley. He'd found Durrin and Annabelle Paige seemingly very involved in a quiet conversation at a back table, and while they had a quick chat, Jack hadn't bothered to stick around very long so as to not interrupt.

Victoire was the belle of the ball, looking very pretty and greeting and chatting with everyone. Jack watched her, knowing most of the guys in the room would give their left arm to get a dance with her, but Louis and Dominique both claimed she was completely hung up on Stuart Reynolds now that he was single.

Jack understood the pull Victoire had—she was really pretty and seemingly the whole package—but he wasn't one of the numbers who would be vying for her attention. Maybe it was because she was Louis' sister, and Louis had always complained about how catching blokes blatantly checking her out annoyed him. Jack had to assume that his loyalty to Louis put him off his sister in some way, even if subconsciously.

Or maybe it didn't...because as he watched Dominique walking across the dance floor with Sarah, he still found himself strangely startled by how nice she looked. She was Louis' sister too; would he feel as annoyed if people were constantly checking her out? She'd never been discussed, so was it loyalty? Or was it that maybe Victoire didn't do it for him, but Dominique maybe...

Stop it. He needed to remind himself that it didn't matter. He needed to let that go.

An hour into the party, he, Louis, Dominique, Sarah and Natalie had found themselves stationed around the food table. Natalie was attempting to convince Louis to dance despite his lack of interest to do that, while Sarah and Dominique were laughing about something apparently very funny that had happened minutes earlier with some Hufflepuff boy. Louis, in an attempt to avoid Natalie's request to dance, was now trying to convince Jack to grow a pair and chat someone up tonight.

"Look around, there's a lot of pretty girls here," Louis said, chewing on a cracker. "Who, to you, is the best looking girl here?"

He said nothing, though he casually let his gaze drift over Dominique, who was still smiling and pointing someone out to Sarah just behind Louis. He shrugged. "No one in particular."

Victoire was now approaching the table—arm and arm with a friend and both smiling broadly. Jack stepped out of their way so they could reach the punch, just as Natalie said, "Here's the girl of the hour!" She seemed especially keen to talk to Victoire, but that was normal. She was always talkative and eager around people who were more popular than her. It was as if she had something to prove, which is what made it so noticeable.

"I'm trying to convince your brother to dance," Natalie was saying, reaching out to touch Victoire's arm.

"Good luck with that," Victoire said, throwing Louis a look. "Louis is not a dancer."

"I told you," Louis said, giving Natalie a playful nudge. It was true. Louis wasn't a big fan of dancing. He'd probably eventually do it to be a good guy—especially if the girl asking was in complete control as to whether or not he was ever going to have sex with her again—but it would be begrudging.

"I could have told you he was miserable," Dominique said to Natalie, as she appeared to help herself to punch. She caught Jack's eye for a half second, as if attempting to drive her point home. "He's absolute rubbish."

"Yeah, he's really bad," Jack agreed, laughing as he whipped around to catch Louis' reaction. It was then that he found himself elbowing some poor girl—Victoire's friend's—arm, causing her to spill the punch she'd been holding all down the front of her.

The girl looked shocked at first, though that gave way to looking completely mortified. Red punch was covering the entire front of her dress. No one even said anything straight away. Everyone was just standing there staring; time seemed to have slowed down. People were handing her napkins; Victoire was pulling out her wand that she was now allowed to use since she was seventeen. All Jack could do was stand there feeling like a prat and processing how he'd been cause of all of this.

"I'm a fucking idiot," Jack said to Louis several minutes later, now that it was just the two of them and the rest of the crowd had cleared out. Natalie had given up on Louis dancing and was currently bouncing around with Sarah on the dance floor.

"It wasn't that bad," Louis offered, glancing at him. "Vic cleaned the mess up. You apologized. I'm sure Whit's over it already."

He had apologized—profusely—not just for spilling on her, but also the cock-up of making her feel like a nobody. He'd actually attempted to make conversation with her to save a bit of face and not feel so bad about the accident, but when he'd asked her what house she was in, he'd could tell by her expression that he'd said something wrong. Once he found out her reaction was because she was in his own house, and only a year older than him, he'd realized he essentially insulted her because he really should have known that. Gryffindor wasn't that big.

"I still can't believe you didn't know who she was," Louis said, laughing a little. "She and my sister hang out all the time."

"I don't pay much attention to your sister," Jack muttered. "Plus, I thought she hung out with Colleen and them."

"Nah, they're frenemies now," Louis said. "Once those girls started spreading that fake rumor about Vic giving Tom Haines a blowjob in the library, Vic was done with them. But, you can't just cut Colleen out or she'll come for you. So, she's been distancing herself with new friends. With Whit."

Jack sighed. "The more I think about it, I'm sure I've seen her around."

"Common room isn't that large, mate," Louis said, giving him a reassuring clap on the back. "But seriously, don't beat yourself up about it. It's really not a big deal."

It wasn't, and he wasn't sure why it bothered him so much that he'd made an idiot of himself in front of Victoire's friend. Outside of the shocked reaction to him both spilling on her and realizing she existed, she'd seemed cool with things. She'd even been cracking jokes. Why was he still thinking about this?

Louis decided then he'd better go and be a good boyfriend and give Natalie the dance she'd requested, leaving Jack there on his own to continue watching the room. Everyone seemed to be having a really good time—laughing, dancing, talking—but he wasn't sharing in much of the enthusiasm. He was starting to feel as if he were a glorified tent post—set to remain on the sides, essentially holding up the walls.

He sighed and grabbed a butterbeer, deciding that some fresh air and sounds of the sea may do him some good. He moved in and around people to get to the side exit, weaving around the cliques and groups until he nearly found himself walking straight into the one person he naturally would almost crash into for the second time that night. It was Victoire's friend, Whit, and she was standing near the exit. She'd physically jumped back when they'd nearly collided, looking surprised.

He stared at her, not even knowing what to say anymore, though she offered a small smile and a quick, "We really need to stop meeting like this."

He laughed a little. "You'd almost think I was doing it on purpose."

She continued to smile, though her expression was a bit curious now. He immediately added, "I'm not."

"I didn't think..." she said, looking away. He distinctly got the impression that she wasn't looking away because she had nothing to say to him, but rather, she also didn't know what to say. She was shy.

"It's Whit, right?"

"It's actually Jane," she said. "Victoire started calling me Whit because my last name is Whitters, and…" She shrugged, "well, when Victoire runs with something, everyone else does, too. It sort of caught on after that."

"What do you prefer?" he asked.

"I'll answer to either," she said. "But, I don't know. I've always been Jane, so…"

He nodded, making a mental note to use her actual name instead of her Victoire inspired nickname. He couldn't really tell one way or the other, but he was getting the impression she may have been too passive and...nice to say anything to anyone about what name she preferred to be called.

"I'm sorry again about earlier," he said earnestly.

"Oh, it's fine," she said with a shrug. "Honestly. Things happen. I don't even…" She again looked away. Now that he took the time to really look at her, she had a very kind face. Her eyes had a bright quality about them that was actually really attractive; he was oddly pulled in by her shy demeanor, if only because he wasn't used to being around people who weren't massive personalities. He was usually that person; it was instantly rather calming to come up against someone who was similar.

"Are you having fun tonight?" he asked, figuring that if they were both going to be wallflowers, they may as well have a chat about it.

She nodded quickly, as if she wanted to make sure he had no doubt in her response. "Yeah, sure. Of course. Are you?"

He shrugged rather lazily, "Eh, not really."

That made her laugh—genuinely laugh—which made him smile. She had a nice laugh.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Uh," he said, blinking a few times and wondering where to start. "Well, most everyone I know is off with someone else, so I've been left on my own. I've been told my hair looks funny—"

"No, it doesn't," she said immediately, her eyes going straight to his hair. "I think it looks nice."

She'd evidently complimented him automatically, without meaning to, because in the second after she said it, she'd now gone a little pink. She was looking rather flustered, as if she was afraid how he'd take that. "That is, I mean, it is nice. Not too nice. Nice enough. That is to say, you have nice hair, but I…"

He smiled at her. She was adorable.

She looked away and sighed, her cheeks burning now. "I'm going to stop saying the world 'nice' now."

"But you were just getting to the good part," he joked, still smiling at her.

She made a face—a red face, which was still really cute—and took a deep breath. If he didn't know any better—and he didn't because he had very little experience in this area—she might be into him. Unless she was just hopeless and got terribly flustered by everyone she spoke to. But he could hope it was him who was now having this effect on her.

"Well, thank you," he offered, sipping on his butterbeer and deciding to go for it. Put himself out there. Throw out the feeler and see if he was making all of this up in his head or if maybe, just maybe, she was keen. "And, uh," he cleared his throat. "The real reason I haven't been having the best night is because I went and made a fool of myself in front of this really cute girl, and I'm hoping she doesn't think I'm a prat."

He waited for her reaction, even though she was looking off across the dance floor. She slowly started to nod, as if just politely agreeing with him, before it all must have hit her at once and she turned to look at him. She didn't seem to know what to say. He'd evidently taken her level of fluster from a ten to about twenty. She didn't ask the question, but her eyes were definitely wondering if he was talking about her.

"Hopefully, you don't think I am," he offered.

"I don't think..." she stammered. "I don't. No. You're not. You're definitely not."

He made a face as if to say that was good to hear, smiling a little as he now cast a glance across the dance floor and drained the rest of his butterbeer. She didn't run screaming. She didn't think he was a prat. This was good.

"You want something to drink?" he asked her, holding up his empty butterbeer. "I was going to get another."

She nodded and smiled, still blushing rather sweetly. "Yeah."

He grinned. "Great."

* * *

**#17: Open Door**

Jack straightened out the edges of his bed—which he'd made for the first time since arriving home a week earlier. He stood up and stared at it for a moment before reaching over and adjusting the edge of his blanket. His room hadn't been this clean in years...at least, not while he was inhabiting it.

As he stood to once again checked it was good, he suddenly got pelted in the side of the head by the unmistakable feeling of that bloody—

"Duck," came Jiffy's voice, and Jack watched as the yellow duck ricocheted off of his head onto his perfectly made bed. He immediately snatched it and lobbed it back at his brother, wanting that thing as far away as possible right now. The last thing he needed was a stuffed animal sitting around his room making him look like a toddler.

"You can't give him right back," Jiffy immediately argued, having caught the duck and staring at Jack as if he'd broken the rules. He technically had—you couldn't just pass the duck right back—but he wasn't in the mood right now.

"Why are you here?" Jack asked, staring at his brother. He knew the answer was that his brother had moved back home in the last few months, seeing as his band was gaining more traction and he spent 90% of his days travelling all over to play dingy clubs and dancehalls. It made little sense for him to be spending all of his money paying rent on a place he never lived in, so he'd come home. But he usually slept all day after working all night, and he never hung around the house much. Of course he would choose today of all days to be a homebody.

Jiffy smiled. "I want to meet your girlfriend." He nodded over to his bed. "You think she'll be more keen to jump into it if it's neat and tidy?"

"Piss off," Jack said, passing him out into the hall before immediately hanging a left to head down the stairs.

"So techy," he heard Jiffy call behind him. "Are you nervous, Jacky?"

Nervous wasn't the word, but anxious probably was. Jane was coming here, to his house, for the first time since they'd started dating properly back in February. She was Apparating, which she was now allowed to do, being seventeen and having passed her test; she was going to see all of his stuff; she was going to meet his family. It was his wizarding world coming to meet his Muggle world, and it was always a bit nerve racking when the two things combined.

Louis had been the only other person Jack had ever invited over, and he'd only come a handful of times, seeing as it was just easier for Jack to go to the Weasleys' house. The Weasleys had access to flying, and magic, and all of the things that were quickly becoming a staple in his day to day life. His house had...nothing of interest. Healthy snacks that his father was now insisting filled the cupboards for his 'lifestyle change,' and a glass cabinet of porcelain Biblical scenes that his mother had been collecting since she was a little girl. Nothing here could be charmed or have a spell cast on it. Everything here was painfully boring.

But Jane...well, she understood. While not a Muggleborn like he was, both of her parents were. They actually lived in a Muggle suburb, and her dad had spent years working a regular Muggle job as a bank manager. They dipped in and out both worlds just like Jack did, which meant Jane understood what he meant when he talked about Youtube and Starbucks, or when he referenced his favorite films. It had been almost like a breath of fresh air to meet someone who not only could understand how difficult Summoning Spells had been to learn, but then a minute later, be arguing that "Return of the Jedi" was better than "Empire Strikes Back"—which it wasn't. He would fight her on that every time.

Their relationship was actually going really well, despite a really rocky start when they'd tried to get together. Some stupid girls—Colleen Lynch and her band of harpies—had some formed some personal vendetta against Jane and Victoire; they'd made it a point to ruin their lives—which included attempting to sabotage his and Jane's relationship before it had started.

But they'd worked it out—essentially being the sole survivor of Colleen's wrath. She'd managed to get Louis dumped by Natalie—which had shaken him up; she got Victoire to have a huge falling out with Stuart Reynolds; and she'd also managed to completely kill any and all chances Gryffindor had at a repeat Quidditch Cup, since Dominique felt it her personal duty to defend her siblings and friends by cursing Colleen in the common room. That had earned her a suspension from Quidditch the rest of the season, and left Gryffindor without the Seeker they so desperately needed. Thus their season had gone to shit.

But he and Jane had survived. They'd only gotten better. They were happy and ready to enjoy a lazy summer where Jack no longer had to think about O.W.L.s; he now had a girlfriend who could Apparate over whenever she felt like it. Including today.

His father had appeared in the living room, giving Jack a quick smile. "Your friend here yet?"

"I have to go and meet her," he said, heading toward the front door. "I told her to Apparate—er, to appear—over near the Killwin's house. In that vacant alley behind it."

JIffy smirked as he collapsed on the sofa. "I've had some good times in that alley."

Jack ignored him while his father followed him over toward the door. "Now, you said she's of age for your lot?"

"Yeah, she's seventeen," Jack said as he reached for the doorknob.

"So, she can do magic tricks?" he asked. "Because you've said you can't until your seventeen."

Jack stopped before pulling the knob. He rounded back on his father. "Please don't call them tricks."

"What do I call them, then?"

"Just magic.'"

He was nodding, and Jack knew he was only trying to take a vested interest in this part of his world. But he was so awkward about it. "And she can help explain all this broom flying you like to do?"

Jack sighed. "I mean, you can ask, but she actually doesn't like Quidditch much. It bores her."

"Wait, your girlfriend doesn't like your favorite magical hobby?" Jiffy asked.

"It's a sport, not a hobby," Jack muttered, "And she doesn't have to like it. She likes me."

Jiffy pulled a face, though he had started to look pensive rather quickly. "I don't think I could be with a girl who didn't like my music."

"Well," their father said with a funny smile. "That would only leave you about six to choose from, Jif."

"Ha, ha, old man," Jiffy said with a roll of his eyes.

"Again, she likes me when I play Quidditch," Jack cut in, pulling the door open then. "It doesn't matter that she doesn't like the actual sport. Would you care if a girl didn't like your music, but still showed up at all of your shows? She's ultimately there for you."

"Yeah, but she'd probably get bored of it all eventually," Jiffy muttered, flipping on the telly.

Twenty minutes later, after meeting Jane in the alleyway and walking her back to introduce her to his completely ridiculous family, who, while nice and mostly harmless, were all smiling like goons at her as if they were surprised to see a real girl standing there. He managed to hustle her away and upstairs before his dad asked her to perform some basic spellwork for his amusement.

"Jack," his mother said, catching him halfway up the stairs with a pointed look. "Door stays open."

He wrinkled his nose, but his mother's expression practically doubled down the warning before she turned to walk off. It caused him to then glance at his brother.

"It's so she can be sure you're leaving plenty of room for the Holy Spirit between the two of you," Jiffy joked.

"You never had to keep your door open."

"Of course I did," he said. "I just never listened." He winked at him. "And she also didn't say how open it had to be. A crack is still open."

Jack smirked. "Right."

"Tell you what, keep your ears open and if you hear me having a coughing fit, that means mam's on her way up."

Jack sincerely thanked him before meeting Jane near the top of the stairs, where she was hovering outside of his room. She smiled as he led the way in, letting her take in her surroundings and feeling rather unnerved all of the sudden. He'd never had a girl in his room in his life, and it wasn't until that moment that he realized just how many film posters he had posted on the walls. Jane was currently staring at them.

"I have a few," he said a bit sheepishly.

"You really do," she said, stepping up to examine the _The Dark Knight_ one above his desk. "You weren't kidding when you said you loved films."

He shrugged, glancing around the room himself. "Yeah. Well, I didn't have a load of friends growing up, so...this was my escape."

She turned to him. "Really?"

He nodded, but avoided her eyes. "I was a strange kid. Made a lot of strange things happen." He looked back at her, "Because of the untapped magic. People thought I was weird."

Jane seemed surprised to hear that; her eyes still studying his face. "I would have never assumed that, knowing you now. I mean, you play Quidditch. You've always been popular..."

He laughed. "Me? Popular? Since when?

She shrugged. "Louis Weasley is your best friend."

"Victoire Weasley is yours," he countered. "Would you consider yourself popular just because they are?"

She was staring at him, though she seemed to be thinking about it. "It's different. Victoire and I only became friends in the last year. I'm still pretty invisible, especially if I'm standing next to her. You can't even deny—"

"You're not invisible."

"Jack, you didn't even know who I was when we first talked," she said, smirking at him as she sat on the edge of his bed. "I know I'm invisible. But you've never been invisible. I knew exactly who you were the moment you spilled punch on me. I've always known."

"You knew I was Louis' friend," Jack offered.

"I knew you were a starting Quidditch player," she said. "I knew you from around the common room. I knew you were friendly with Durrin. You hung around him, too. And he has always had loads of friends."

"He and I are friends through Quidditch," Jack started to argue, though he quickly stopped because he realized he was starting to prove her point for her. Between Louis and Quidditch, people did know who he was—that was true. He still didn't consider himself to be a popular person. Growing up, people wouldn't even talk to him because he was the alien kid who would somehow make the lights in the room flicker if he was angry. There was no way he'd gone and flipped to being a popular kid. At best, he'd just found a place where he fit in.

Jane smiled at him. "Whatever you are now, it's nice to understand where you once felt you were." She gestured around the room to his posters. "I've never had loads of friends either. I'm that invisible girl who Victoire has sort of forced into things, but maybe that's why we work." She shrugged. "We've clearly got parts of our past where we've felt isolated. We have that in common."

Jack stared. He truly couldn't even convey to her how he'd never once—not once—felt like he belonged to the popular, cool kids club, despite what she thought. He actually felt far more connected to the isolated, invisible club she'd shoehorned herself into; that was what being best friends with the most popular guy in their year usually meant. And while he'd come a long way from the recluse he'd once been, a part of him would always be that goofy little kid locked up in his room, attempting to memorize every word to "Jurassic Park" because he didn't really talk much to other people. Maybe that's why he and Jane got on so well. People who felt invisible needed to stick together.

He reached over and shut her door all but a crack; feeling confident since he hadn't heard Jiffy cough or so much as sniffle down below. He turned back to Jane, slowly smiling at how lovely she looked sitting on his bed—the same bed he slept in every night. He had a girl in his room. He had his girlfriend in his room.

* * *

**#18: Haircuts**

On the first day of August, with his camp bag slung over his shoulder, Jack stepped out of the fireplace at Shell Cottage into the Weasleys always tidy looking living room. It was empty, though there were busy noises carrying from other parts of the house. He could distinctly hear two girls shouting—not in argument, more in mild frustration—and he knew Dominique and Victoire were involved in something immediately.

He hadn't seen Louis or any of them in over a month—not since he and his sisters shipped off to France to visit their family and enjoy some seaside fun. They'd barely been back before the three of them, along with Jack, would now be Portkeying across the country to a secure spot for the 426th Quidditch World Cup, where Argentina and Italy would be competing for the ultimate title.

The Weasleys, being as well connected as they were, got good tickets easily and had invited Jack to come along. Victoire had asked Jane, too, and Jack had tried really hard to convince her to go since he knew she didn't particularly like Quidditch, but she'd ultimately passed since she was leaving to go on holiday with her family the day after the World Cup. It would have ultimately been a lot to deal with, but he'd be lying if he wasn't disappointed she didn't try and swing it. He'd hoped they could spend some alone time together while camping—especially since she'd be away now for two weeks—but it was what it was. He supposed he could focus entirely on enjoying the Quidditch now.

Victoire suddenly came flying down the stairs, calling for her mother and asking if she'd seen her white shorts. She turned and stared straight at him standing there, and Jack couldn't help but be immediately stuck by how tanned and glowy she looked. It was funny, seeing as most of the people he knew—as fair as they were—turned beat red after some time spent in the sun. Jack knew he did. He still remembered the awful sunburn he'd gotten as a child after a shirtless day spent by the sea. But leave it to the Weasleys and their perfect genes to not only not burn, but somehow glow.

"Hey," Victoire said with a quick smile. "Louis was just asking about you. How long have you been standing there?"

"A minute," he said. "Just got here."

She nodded, now looking around again in a preoccupied manner. "How's your summer been? How are things with Whit?"

He smiled as he placed his bag down beside the fireplace. "Good and good. How was France?"

Her smile seemed a bit forced, though still polite. "Good. Had fun, but I was ready to come home and..." she hesitated a little, "deal with some things." She stopped to call up the stairs, "Lou, Jack's here!" before rounding back on him. "Just go on up. I don't know if he can hear me over his music."

Jack did just that, taking the Weasleys' stairs two at a time, passing both girls' rooms until he reached the last one by the bathroom. He could already hear the sounds of the Nymph Chasers blaring behind Louis' door; it caused him to thump loudly to get his attention.

His door flew open and there stood Louis, much like his sister, looking tan and glowy and somehow better looking than usual. He smiled broadly. "You're here! I was wondering when you'd turn up."

Jack grinned in acknowledgment as Louis stepped aside to let him enter. "Got some sun, then?"

"Yeah, a bit," Louis said with an air of relaxed energy, immediately launching into how great the month had been—beach, sun, family, Paris, getting drunk a couple of times. He'd apparently chatted up loads of girls, but mostly stuck to snogging and messing around with one who was "the most stunning girl I've ever seen," he'd said, his expression a little dreamy. "I think I might have to move to France one day because the girls there are just next level, you know?"

Jack laughed as he listened, having sat on the edge of Louis' bed. "They're pretty cool here."

"Yeah, I mean, sure," Louis said, sniffing at one of his shirts before folding it to place it in his backpack. "Speaking of which, how are things with the misses?"

Jack had been randomly examining a book Louis had left discarded on his bed, but placed it aside. "Good."

"Good..." Louis said slowly, his tone prodding him to elaborate. "Has anything...new happened since we last talked?"

Jack threw him a look, already knowing where he was taking this. He couldn't really blame him, it wasn't that the two of them didn't talk about the things they—well, mostly Louis—did with girls, but it seemed a bit more personal now that he had a proper girlfriend. She wasn't just some cute French girl he'd met on the beach and spent a few weeks working his fingers around a swimsuit on.

Still, it was Louis, and they talked about everything. Plus, he knew Louis was genuinely asking because he was curious and interested on Jack's behalf, not because he was some sort of pervert. Flynn would be asking to be a pervert.

"We've been spending loads of time together," Jack offered. "Loads. She's over all the time."

"That's terrific," Louis said, walking over to sit on his desk chair.

"And, um…" Jack hesitated. "Doing the normal stuff, but there have been some...developments."

Louis looked intrigued, but said nothing. Normal stuff had always meant a lot of half dressed snogging and rubbing. A lot of rubbing. So much rubbing. And while Jack really liked the rubbing, he'd be lying if he didn't admit to wanting to take the rubbing a bit further.

He and Jane had been together for nearly seven months, and the first six months of that, they'd done nothing more than kiss and feel around a bit. He'd been fine with that because he wasn't particularly experienced, and Jane wasn't either. She'd admitted to him that he was her first kiss, her first boyfriend, her first...everything else that had happened thus far. They'd tackled a lot of things for the first time together, like how she'd let him see and touch her without a top on; let him kiss her on those exposed parts.

And while she seemed to like it—she said she did—she always seemed so nervous to push anything further. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he'd pull back when he sensed it; but once the moment was gone, they wouldn't speak about what had happened and nothing would change. They would kiss, they would get more heated, she would start giving off awkward body language, and he would stop.

He wanted to touch her and make her feel good, to learn how to make her feel good, but only if she wanted it too. He didn't know how to breach the subject with her, instead just continuously falling back into the kiss/awkward/stop pattern they were now so familiar with.

But it had become a distraction; so much so, that a month ago, while he was on top of her kissing her while their breathing labored and his desire to keep going consumed him, he had come right out and asked her, "Can I touch you?"

She'd laughed a little. "What are you doing?"

"I mean…" He stopped kissing her to look at her, though he let his gaze drift down to the top of her shorts. "Down…" He swallowed and looked back at her. "There."

Her face immediately looked a bit alarmed, and Jack immediately felt bad for asking. He shouldn't have...She didn't want...He rolled off her and let his head fall down on the pillow beside her. Now he just felt like one of those prats who attempted to persuade his girlfriend into doing more than she was ready for.

She pulled herself up onto her elbows, her entire upper half of her naked which—while he enjoyed—he could tell made her feel a bit exposed. She was always really quick to dress after they'd messed around; once the sexual nature of the moment was over and they were back to normal.

He reached over and grabbed the shirt she'd discarded earlier and handed it to her, but to his surprise, she didn't cover herself. She just continued to stare at him. "Do you really want to?"

"Touch you?" It took everything he had in him not to look at her as if she were mental. "Yes."

She blushed and looked shocked, as if she couldn't believe what he was saying. There was something else in her expression though that he could just barely place—she was flattered. Only then, did he feel that maybe this moment wasn't completely lost. She wasn't angry, so maybe he could back off the under the belt stuff and perhaps they could at least get back to snogging.

"Obviously I want to," he said, leaning over to kiss her shoulder. "I want to know all of you because you mean a lot to me, but I can wait."

"I'm just…" She was stammering, and Jack wasn't sure if that was because she was enjoying this or because she was anxious. He pulled back to look at her. "I've never had anyone…"

He smiled. "I've never done it."

She took a deep breath, though it wasn't uncomfortable. It was sort of nervous. "I mean, we could try. You might have to be a bit patient with me, but...yeah. We can..."

He blinked a few times. Was she…? Holy shit.

"Alright."

She was now looking down the length of his own body, to where his erection was clear as days against his boxer shorts. She was staring at it. "Should I…? I mean, can I...?"

"Only if you want to," he said immediately, though he was already nodding rather eagerly. "But yeah, you can."

"I've felt it up against my leg enough time," she said, laughing a little. "Probably should properly introduce myself."

He also laughed a bit. She would make jokes right when they were in the middle of things.

And they had moved things forward. They'd spent the last month touching and exploring new parts. It was unquestionably awkward at first, and Jane wasn't exactly communicating what she did and didn't like outside of the noises and expressions she made, but he was learning. She was letting him learn. That was the major takeaway.

He, however, was easy to please. If she touched him, he was happy. He'd shown her pretty quickly what he liked, if only because there wasn't much to it. She got him there a lot faster than he'd worked her out—and truthfully, he wasn't sure he'd worked her out at all. She always just claimed everything was great—which he found rather frustrating. As much as he'd like to believe he was a natural born sex god, he found it more likely that she was embarrassed to tell him what she wanted. But how was he supposed to get better if he didn't know what she liked?

"I just wish she'd say, 'Yeah, keep doing that,' or 'That feels good,'" Jack said, having just ran Louis through his tales of the last month.

"Have you told her that?" Louis asked.

He sighed loudly. "I ask her all the time if she likes whatever I'm doing and it's always 'yes'. Everything is an automatic yes. So, I'm either incredibly gifted or she's just telling me what she thinks I want to hear."

"Well, I doubt it's that you're gifted," Louis offered. "Your fingers fumble around to open a Chocolate Frog wrapper."

They both laughed at that, though Jack immediately chucked a shoe Louis had on the floor by his bed at him. Louis lobbed it right back, hitting Jack straight on the nose and causing him to yelp and grab his face. That only made Louis laugh harder, though he did manage to squeak out a, "Sorry, I didn't mean to get you in the face."

"You're a git," Jack mumbled, letting himself fall back on the bed as he wriggled his nose. At the same moment, the door to Louis' room swung open. It caused Louis to bark, "Don't you knock?"

"I heard Jack in here, so I assumed you were decent," came Dominique's voice, though Jack couldn't see her given he was still rubbing his nose and staring up at the ceiling. "Wasn't aware you were having a secret meeting."

"More a private conversation," Louis mumbled. "But sure, just come right on in."

"I will," Dominique said. In the next second, she'd walked straight into Jack's line of sight. She was standing there, upside down from his point of view, and staring down at him as she now obscured his view of the ceiling. "What happened to you?"

He'd been still rubbing his nose, but he'd stopped the second he'd gotten a good look at her. She...She'd cut...Her hair was…

He immediately sat up into a sitting position and turned to look at her. He had to have been mistaken. There was no way she'd cut all of her hair off and was now sporting a rather short—and honestly, sort of sexy—pixie cut. But the longer he looked at her, he realize she actually fucking had. Her long, silvery hair was gone; completely gone. Instead, all that was there was short blonde hair that suddenly made her face look so much more...present. Her eyes were really blue; it all stood out even more given she, too, was sporting that glowy tanned look her siblings were.

Not a lot of people could cut all of their hair off and look like...that.

"Holy shit," Jack said, the only words he could manage to say. "You cut your hair."

"Well spotted," she said with a smirk, one that she and Louis were still sharing.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Why not? It was hot out and I was tired of it. Figured I'd give this a go."

He honestly couldn't stop marveling at it. It wasn't just because he couldn't believe how different she looked, but also because her hair—as wild and untamed as she usually wore it—was almost her trademark. Her bitchy comments and her really blonde hair—those were how most people would describe her. It was a startling change.

"Stop staring, you goon," she said, throwing him a look. "It's not that big of a deal."

"I don't know," Louis offered. "You're going to shock a lot of people when they see you. Took me a good minute to pick my jaw up off the ground the first time I saw it."

"It's just so...different," Jack stammered. "But, it's good. Seriously. It's a good different."

"Happy to have your approval," she said sarcastically, though she cracked a half smile before she glanced over at Louis. "We leave in twenty minutes. Are you ready? I'm not missing this Portkey."

"Yes, yes..." he said, making his tone sound bored on purpose. "We'll make it to your little Quidditch match yet. Don't worry."

"It's not little," Jack said, just as Dominique practically spat, "It's the bloody World Cup." She turned back to Jack. "Who are you pulling for? Argentina or Italy?"

"Italy," he said. "They've got Sabatino. He's unstoppable."

She rolled her eyes as she turned to leave. "Have I taught you nothing? Once we get there, I'll explain to you why Argentina will destroy the lot."

With that, she left, though the door remained open behind her. Jack's eyes immediately shot to Louis', his mouth agape as he whispered. "She cut all of her hair off?"

Louis was nodding, walking over to shut the door, but keeping his voice low all the same. "My mum had kittens when she found out. Her and my aunt—her sister, who's the one who let Nic do it—had a full on row, and they never fight." He shrugged. "She's come around now and actually seems to like it since Nic takes better care of it than she did when it was long. But it was a scene for a day or two."

"She looks like an entirely different person," Jack said.

"Yeah, she does," Louis said. "I think it's good for her. She seems more confident, you know? And not just, _'I'll destroy you if because I can'_ confident, but actually cool with herself confident. You'd never know it, but she's insecure about her looks."

Jack made a face. "What's to be insecure about? She's got a perfect face." Louis looked at him strangely for a moment, causing Jack to immediately add, "Your whole family does. Everyone says..."

"I think that's just it," Louis said with a shrug, now double checking his bag one last time. "She's always been self conscious about being pretty; always trying to hide it. I don't know why. Now, she slowly seems to be coming around on the fact that she is who she is and she needs to deal with it." He suddenly looked rather amused as he glanced back at Jack. "But that's not the only thing she's suddenly coming around on."

Jack's eyebrow rose.

"She was chatting up this bloke we met in France."

Jack let his complete shock wash over his face like a wave. For years, the lack of interest that Dominique had in any and all things romantic, sexual, or even just harmless crushing was a bit of a discussion topic between people. Louis said he just assumed she had other priorities and would maybe come around when she was ready—a late bloomer—but Jack had a hard time picturing Dominique as anything other than his Quidditch obsessed teammate who snarked and barked herself in and around all situations. The idea of her flirting with someone was an alien concept.

"She'll deny it if you ask her," Louis said. "But there was this bloke who works for my uncle—tends to his garden or something. He's maybe eighteen or nineteen, and he's a big Quidditch fan. And obviously Nic can sniff those people out a mile away." He smirked. "They became friendly. Very chatty. More chatty that I'm used to seeing my sister being."

"Dominique?" Jack asked in disbelief. "So wait, did she…? Did something—?"

"Nothing happened," Louis said, sensing Jack's line of thought. "They just spent a lot of time talking about Quidditch, but you can ask Vic. There was something there in Nic that I'd never seen before. It was her version of flirting. She was slightly nicer, less abrasive with him. But don't get me wrong, it wasn't as if anything she was doing was obvious. I'd bet any money the guy had no idea and just thought she was very interested in Quidditch."

Jack laughed a little. "Wow. I'm trying to picture your sister with a boyfriend. How does that even work?"

"I don't know," Louis said, zipping up his bag. "But maybe we'll see sooner rather than later now that she's started showing interest, and I didn't think I'd be saying that anytime soon." He paused for a second as if to think. "Honestly, I can't picture one bloke at school who she'd even give the time of day to."

Jack again gave a halfhearted laughed as he nodded to agree. He'd like to meet the one who somehow manages to finally break through to Dominique Weasley.

* * *

**#19: The Badge**

Jack had been surprised by how much heavier his Hogwarts letter felt when he opened it. It was barely noticeable, but it also seemed a bit lumpier than usual. As if there was something in it beside his usual book list.

His father was sitting back down across the kitchen table from him, having just shooed the owl that had delivered Jack's letter off the sill and back out into the outdoors. His father had an acute fear of birds—which is why Jack was never allowed an owl, despite begging for one to communicate with his friends. Whenever owls arrived, his father always had a wee bit of a panic attack and either left the room or made a point to chase the owl off as quickly as he could once Jack had gotten whatever it was delivered. He constantly commented on how he could get behind a lot of things that his "Magic School" did, but never—not ever—the birds.

"I refused to believe there's not a faster way for your lot to communicate," he father said as Jack's mother walked into the room, dressed and looking as if she were heading out.

"It does seem strange that you can travel through the fireplace and ride along on brooms, but you have to send messages through owls and wait hours, if not days, for a response," add his mother. "Even I can text faster than that, and you know it takes me ages to type out a message."

Jack smirked as he began to slide his finger into his envelope to tear at the top. It was true. His mother practically chicken-pecked at the keyboard when trying to send a message.

"But," said his father between sips of tea as he watched his son, "soon you'll be able to pop in and out everywhere as Jane does, right? Just disappear and reappear."

Jack nodded, "As soon as I'm seventeen and pass my Apparation test."

"So, in a little over a month," said his mother, smiling. "I can't believe you'll already be seventeen. "And Jif will be twenty in November. Sometimes I wonder where my little boys went?"

"One to magic school and one to driving around the country in a mangy, old van," smirked his father once Jack finally pulled open his letter. "I won't lie, I figured you'd both end up in far more boring and predictable places when you were smaller."

"I can still just remember Jack when he was a toddler. That head full of blonde hair and that smile he always had on his face," his mother continued. "Always the sweetest little boy. Wouldn't hurt a fly."

But Jack was barely paying attention now because along his letter for Hogwarts, something else had fallen out onto the table. A small, silver badge with the letter C on it.

"What's that?" asked his mother, having sat down at the table beside him. She was reaching out to pick it up, but Jack got to it first. He knew what that was. He knew exactly what that was.

"That's…" he said, plainly, though he was already grabbing his letters to make absolutely sure before he said it out loud. He tossed the rest to the side and instead opened the other letter than had been tucked inside the envelope. He was lucky not to tear it with the speed he was unfolding it.

_Dear Mr. Ians,_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected as Captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the upcoming 2017-2018 season…_

He gaped as he read. He was chosen for his " _exemplary leadership skills both on and off the pitch_ " and " _his ability to remain calm under pressure._ " It was all there, how he was expected to uphold the standards for which Gryffindor was known. How he was to prepare and lead this team to a potential Quidditch Cup. Longbottom had signed it at the bottom, making it official.

Holy shit.

He jumped up from his seat, practically bouncing. "I've been made Quidditch Captain," he said, looking back at his parents. "They made me the Quidditch Captain."

He told his parents a lot of things about school that made very little sense to them. Quidditch, in general, confused them a great deal, but they knew what a team captain was. That much they could put together. Both of them now seemed positively thrilled to hear it.

"Jack, that's amazing!" said his mother, beaming. "You're always talking about how much you love to play. You've invested so much hard work into getting better. And look it's paid off!"

"Congratulations," said his father with a proud smile. "That's terrific, Jack."

He'd grabbed his badge and was now examining it. Holy shit. He'd been made Quidditch Captain. Him. Five years ago he couldn't even fly and now...he was a bloody captain! All those hours spent on the pitch practicing his flying, becoming better with his bat, learning technique...All those late summer afternoons, and weekends, and early morning where he and Dominique would go and...

Oh...shit.

He suddenly frowned. If he was the captain, that meant Dominique wasn't. There could only be one, and he knew for a fact that Dominique had wanted it. She'd talked about frequently, even back when they were younger. Even last term, when Durrin was calling a stupid practice play, she would whisper to Jack that when it was her team, she'd never make the rest of them do something so unnecessary; she wouldn't waste everyone's time.

And Jack had believed it. She'd practically been a shoo-in, seeing as no one knew Quidditch, or strategy, or technique like she did. She'd taught him almost everything he knew. He'd never once, before this very moment, really even considered getting the position because Dominique was so convinced she had it on lock.

But she didn't. Apparently, she wasn't even the first choice. Or maybe she was, but her off the pitch antics caught up to her. There was that cursing of Colleen Lynch in the common room that led to her suspension from the final match. And the year before, she'd kicked Davies square in the bollocks, which had caused a lot of issues. You couldn't have a captain getting suspended for attacking people. There was no doubt she was a hothead.

His euphoria for having been chosen instead was starting to wane. She was obviously going to find out he got it—he'd probably have to tell her. How was she going to react to that? That answer was most decidedly, not well.

"I knew you got it," said Louis three days later, once Jack had finally worked up the courage to stop by Weasleys' place. The two of them, along with Victoire, were sitting in their kitchen, both of them informing him that Dominique had taken the news of not getting the badge very hard. She'd apparently locked herself away in her room and barely came out since the letters had arrived.

"There was a chance it could have been Devon or Alex," Victoire offered, referring to the two seventh-year Chasers.

"Nah, Alex only just joined the team last year," Louis said. "And while Devon and Jack both got in at the same time, Jack's clearly the superior athlete. I'd argue you're the best one out there."

Jack and Victoire turned to look at Louis with rather curious stares. It was Victoire who asked, "Um, what about Nic?"

"Nic's amazing," Louis said, lowering his voice. "Don't get me wrong, but Jack…" He shrugged. "I don't know, mate. I think you should seriously start considering making something out of Quidditch professionally. Your aim and accuracy is scary good."

"But Nic is that good, too," Jack argued. "Her diving skills are—"

"You don't have to convince me Nic is good," Louis argued. "I know she is. But…" He sighed, practically whispering now. "Look at it like this, she's as good as other people. She and Giggleswick are equally good, for example. They're really similar."

"Oh, shit. Please, don't let her hear you say that," Jack said, glancing around nervously.

"But you are in a league of your own," Louis said. "No one at school can touch you. There's not another Beater in the school who can do what you can do." He shrugged. "With Nic, there's another Seeker over in Ravenclaw who can do what she can."

Jack said nothing, though Victoire seemed to be comprehending what Louis was saying. It caused Louis to further add, "And it's not as if anyone here has to convince Nic that she wants to go pro. She's already got her path mapped out to get there. You, however," he pointed at Jack, "have barely even thought about it."

Perhaps that was true. It had never really occurred to him—beyond a bit of a fantasy—that he could make a career out of this. But he had become quite good, and he definitely was the strongest Beater in the school. Seeing as there wasn't another wizarding school in England, that would have put him in the top category for amateur athletes. Professional teams had to get their new athletes from somewhere.

A half an hour passed, with Jack still attempting to work up the courage to walk up those stairs and talk to Dominique, but as it turned out he didn't have to do that. She suddenly turned up in kitchen, and it was clear she was as startled to see him sitting there as he was to now have her present. Louis and Victoire were looking back and forth between them.

"Hey, Nic," he said far too quickly.

"Hi," she said slowly, taking a careful couple of steps into the room. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh..." He looked back a Louis and Victoire, who were both watching silently. "Visiting."

She looked around at the group of them, her face growing skeptical. "Why do I feel as if you've all been talking about me?"

"We haven't really," said Louis, though Jack took that moment to stand up and face her. He needed to do this. Like ripping off a bandage. Just do it. It was now or never.

"So, I, um, I...got…" He was speaking so slowly, as if someone had put a slow-motion spell on him. "The, um, Quidditch thing. Captain. I got captain." He nervously looked at her. "If you were...wondering."

She stared at him for a moment. Her face was completely blank, but not angry. Not happy. Not upset. Not anything. It was a bit scary how devoid of emotion it was.

"I assumed as much."

"Did you?" he asked, attempting to keep his tone light.

"Who else would they have given it to?" she asked, her voice hollow and empty sounding. "Good for you. Congratulations."

"Um, thank you," he said, watching her face for any telltale signs of anger. "I didn't expect it. Honestly."

"You obviously should have," she said, gesturing to the badge he was holding. "Can I see it?"

That seemed like pouring salt in a wound, but he still held it out of her to take. She did just that and began examining it—her face still blank. After a few seconds, she handed it back. "Well, enjoy that." She turned to leave, though she offered a lame sounding, "Well done," over her shoulder before disappearing.

The moment she'd left, he rounded back on Louis and Victoire, who both looked mostly relieved. Louis actually visibly exhaled. "That went far better than I expected," Louis offered.

"I thought there'd be more yelling," Victoire said. "I'm a bit surprised."

"Think we all are," Louis muttered before acknowledging Jack. "But mate, you should feel excited about this. Seriously. She'll get over it."

Victoire was nodding as if to agree, and Jack found himself absently nodding as well. He hoped that was true. With him being captain, Quidditch was going to change a lot for him now. It was going to be far more time consuming now that he has to create plays and plans, as well as organizing practices and players. It could easily become overwhelming, but Dominique had always kept him afloat out there when things got to be too much. She really did know so much, and the two had become sort of a team to bounce things off of out there.

He just hoped she wouldn't hold this against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These stories are coming together with the rest of the series now, so things will start looking more and more familiar...just different. Thanks for reading!


	5. Sixth Year

**Sixth-Year**

* * *

**#20: Deflated**

Jack had practically tackled Jane in a hug the moment she'd appeared on his doorstep. It was the first time he'd seen her in two weeks, seeing as she'd just returned the day before from her tropical holiday with her parents. She, like the Weasleys, had certainly gotten some sun on her trip; she had a redder quality to her skin, which she would later explain was what her sunburn turned into after a week.

She had barely even gotten out a hello before Jack exclaimed. "I want to hear all about your trip, but you'll never believe what I got from school."

She smiled curiously as he let go and stepped back, already pulling the badge out of his pocket. He handed it to her, though she seemed confused as to what it was. It took her a few extra seconds before her eyes went wide and recognition dawned on her. "Is this…?" She looked up at him. "They made you captain?"

He smiled. "They made me captain."

She smiled a little , but her reaction—while clearly surprised—wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as he'd imagined in his head when he'd envisioned telling her this over the last week. He'd anticipated more excitement, but after a few seconds to process, she only stammered a mild sounding, "Wow."

His smile faltered, which she immediately noticed and reacted to. "I mean, Jack, that's amazing." She leaned in to kiss him. "Congratulations. I'm just surprised because you'd said you thought Nicki was the one who would—"

"I did think that," he said as he walked her further into his house and they sat on the sofa. "Trust me, no one was more surprised than me when I got it." He paused. "Well, maybe Nic."

"You've spoken to her?"

"I did. I went over and let her know." He shrugged. "She took it well. You could tell she was a bit upset it wasn't her, but she congratulated me. She was good about it."

She seemed surprised to hear that, but offered him a half smile. "That's good. I'd hate for her to be upset with you because it wasn't as if you asked for it. You didn't even want it."

"Well, I mean, I never really thought about it because I was so convinced she would get it, but…" He looked down at the badge in his hands. "I can't say that I didn't want it. I'm pretty excited about it."

She was looking at him oddly now. "Are you?"

"Yeah," he said. "Why wouldn't I be? It's an honor. Plus, it's a step in the right direction if I ever decide to pursue Quidditch professionally one day."

That bit of information was evidently news to her, and her expression said as much as she stared at him. "You've never mentioned seriously considering Quidditch as a career before."

He laughed. "Right, well, it's been more of a pipe dream, but...I don't know. I'm starting to think maybe I might be good enough to at least consider it. My O.W.L.s weren't anything to write home about."

"Did you not do well?"

"I did fine," he said with a shake of his head. "A couple of Es, mostly As, which I'm fine with. But I was never expecting straight Os across the board like Louis. I'm starting to think Quidditch might be where I should focus my energy."

Jane didn't seem entirely excited to hear this, but she took school more seriously than he did. Quidditch to her was a hobby—something people did at school; not seriously considered a career. And to be fair, he'd never much considered it beyond that until recently. But he was hoping that now that he did, she'd get behind him and be supportive.

"Well, just don't blow off school or anything, because you know it's not a sure thing," she said. "Have a realistic backup plan."

"I know," he said, feeling a bit deflated. He found himself slowly easing back into the sofa, as if even his body language was giving out a little.

She sighed and looked off across his living room. "I'd never in my life ever think I would date a Quidditch captain."

"Why not? What does that mean?"

"It means you're a Quidditch captain," she said, as if that word had more meaning to it than what the title suggested. The way she was currently looking at him only reaffirmed that. That apparently meant something more to her than the person whose job it was to take charge of a Quidditch team.

"I'm still the same person," he said. "Nothing's changed."

"It's just…" She shrugged. "It elevates you. You see it all the time. Random people will suddenly come out of the woodwork because that's how it always happens. Random girls. That badge just does something to people—not necessarily you, but to the people looking at you."

"Jane, it's me," Jack said plainly. "Same old me."

"For now," she said with a playful smile, and while he knew she was teasing him, he really wasn't feeling the humor at the moment. Did she seriously expect this to really change things?

"And you're probably going to be swamped with Quidditch responsibilities," she mumbled. "You'll be so busy with it all."

"Yeah, but you'll be busy with N.E.W.T. stuff," he said, feeling defensive now. He didn't know why her attitude was suddenly annoying him so much. "At least I'll keep myself busy."

"I guess so," she said, offering a weak agreement. "I just have a feeling this will go ahead and make me a proper Quidditch widow."

He'd been waiting two weeks to see her—thinking about her, missing her, dreaming about her, wanting nothing more for her to be back so he could kiss and touch her—but now that she was here, he was suddenly wishing she was back in the Bahamas. He'd been so sure she would have been excited and over the mood at the fact that he'd gotten captain—if only because he was—that her dull and deflated reaction was actually aggravating him. He instead looked away from her. "What do you want to do today?"

"I need to swing by Diagon Alley," she offered. "Pick up a few last minute things. Then, I was thinking we can swing by Victoire's since I haven't seen her since before the World Cup. She wrote me this really long letter about everything that happened there, which for her was SO much, so she and I have a lot to talk about." She smiled brightly all of the sudden.

"I can tell you about the World Cup match," he offered; a spark of excitement lit at the fact she was interested in a Quidditch match. Though, why she wanted Victoire to tell her instead of him he couldn't understand. She'd barely even paid attention to any of it. She was actually too busy running around with her friend, Ted Lupin. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, it's not about the match," she said, as if he should have known that. "It's about something else."

"What, then?"

She looked suddenly guarded, as if she knew something he didn't. "I'm not sure what I'm allowed to say. So I better not say anything."

Oh. Cool, so they were keeping secrets now. That was...great.

He stood up from the sofa; now feeling antsy and the urge to move. "Yeah, fine. Let's do that, then. Let's just...go."

She was staring at him curiously. "Are you OK? You seem...I don't know, put out all of the sudden."

"Nope," he said, his face perfectly neutral. "I'm fine."

After shopping for a few long hours, Jack just couldn't seem to shake his morose attitude. He felt he did a hell of a job faking it, and before he knew it the pair of them ended up Floo'ing to the Weasleys, where Bill—their dad, who was looking over papers and listening to the radio in the sitting room. He told the pair of them that Louis and Victoire were upstairs packing, and Jane offered a quick 'thank you' to him before barely even hesitating to dash toward the stairs to Victoire's room. Jack had been so quick, threw Bill a lazy shrug, and dawdled behind before eventually making his way upstairs too.

At the top, he ran into Dominique walking from the bathroom to her room. He smiled in a familiar way and was about to ask her how she was doing, but she barely made eye contact with him and breezed straight past him a very deliberate manner. He could hear her door snap shut behind her with a haste.

"Alright," he muttered. Apparently, she was still sore about the captain thing. That made for two people today who seemed to completely hate the idea that he was now the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.

He shoved on to Louis' room, though his door was already open and Louis was actually glancing out into the hallway at the sound of Jack approaching. He seemed surprised, but pleased to see him. "Hey, mate. Didn't expect to see you today."

"Jane's back and she wanted to come and see Victoire," he said dully, leaning on Louis' door frame seeing as his room was practically uninhabitable at the moment. All of his robes, and books, and school supplies were covering every inch of the floor. It looked as though a tornado had come through, and Jack knew all too well that this was how Louis had a habit of packing.

Louis looked to be holding in a laugh as he kicked aside a cardboard box. "Two weeks apart and you've been brushed off for my sister?"

"We spent the day together in Diagon Alley," Jack offered lamely, his tone faraway and rather hollow.

Louis picked up on it immediately and rounded back on him from the robes he'd been moving from his bed to his trunk. "You alright?"

He shrugged. "I'm just in a bad mood."

Louis nodded, though dropped the robes and then gestured for him to turn and head back into the hallway. "Come on," he offered, leading the way down the stairs and toward the front door. He opened it and held it open for Jack to take, just as Bill called out, "You going somewhere, Lou? You needed to pack."

"Just outside for a bit," Louis called back, gesturing for Jack to follow him out onto the porch. It was there Louis collapsed into the nearest chair and suggested Jack do the same.

He did as he was told and found himself absently staring out to the sea and our onto the horizon line. The two were quiet for a long moment, though not uncomfortably so. It was the nice sort of quiet that he and Louis could often achieve when they wanted to; the kind of quiet he didn't know he desperately needed after his day. He really did enjoy this view. It was so peaceful.

After a bit, Louis finally said, "I snogged Sarah the other day."

Jack slowly turned to look at him. "What?"

He was nodding absently. "She's been over a lot lately. You know, to see Nic, but I've been hanging around obviously. We've been getting on. She and I have been really into listening to the new Nymph Chasers LP, and Nic can only listen to it so many times without wanting to murder us. She got tired of us and told Sarah she was going to fly, which left the two of us alone." He smiled. "One thing led to another."

"What'd you do?"

"It was just one of those quiet moments where we were sitting beside each other and the perfect song was on. And we found ourselves looking into each other's eyes and...I leaned in. She leaned in. It happened."

Jack hummed, feeling genuinely surprised to hear this news. "I never thought the day would come."

"Well, Robbie's finally out of the picture," Louis said. "She and I have always had something, we just couldn't get the timing right."

"And now it is?"

He shrugged. "We haven't discussed it. We've only snogged the once, but...I'm single. She's single. We're both clearly into each other. That kiss was..." He suddenly looked a little thunderstruck. "People say stupid shit all the time about how when you kiss the right person, you see fireworks or whatever, right?" Jack nodded, so Louis continued, "And I thought that was a load of tosh, but I get it now. It was different with her. There was this mad connection."

Jack turned away. He wasn't sure he could empathize with that feeling. Yes, he'd heard it described in books and songs; he'd seen it in films and on television. He'd even witnessed it between certain people in real life, but he wasn't sure if he'd experienced it. He really liked kissing Jane, but "fireworks" and "electric" weren't words he'd use to describe anything. "Nice," "enjoyable," "satisfying," were more the sorts of words he'd use. Well...today excluded. Today, he was just annoyed.

"Anyway," Louis said, "I guess we'll see how it goes once we're back to school and have more time to figure things out. But you're the only person who knows."

Jack smirked at that. "Gee, I wonder why? Didn't run off to tell your sister or your ex that you're snogging their best friend?"

"Forgot Natalie, she chucked me," Louis said matter-of-factly. "But Nic...she'll murder me." He made a face. "She already thinks I'm on some sort of quest to smash half the school, which I'm not, but this will only fuel her fire. And this is Sarah...I mean, you know how I've felt about her. This isn't new."

"I know."

"You can tell Sarah's completely conflicted," he said. "She doesn't know what to do because there are feelings there, but she doesn't want to upset Nic. Natalie, too, I assume."

"But the heart wants what it wants," Jack joked.

"Right?" Louis said, sounding happy to have an ally here. "Exactly. I'm just afraid she won't give us a chance because of Nic."

"Then be honest with your sister," Jack said. "She's going to be angry either way, but if she finds out from someone else—"

"You're the only other person who knows," Louis said. "And I know you won't tell her."

He wouldn't; that was true. One, because he had Louis' back and wouldn't ever intentionally betray his trust. Two, because Dominique didn't seem entirely keen on talking to him anyway. It wouldn't be an issue.

"And I'm asking you not to tell Whit either," Louis added. "Because if Whit knows, Vic will know within minutes. And if Vic knows, Nic will know."

Jack glanced back at him, immediately remembering Jane's comment earlier about having a secret she wasn't sure she was allowed to speak to, so she better not. Well, it seemed they were in the same boat now with secrets they shouldn't be speaking about. "I won't tell anyone. You know I won't."

"You are a man among men," Louis said with a funny smile. "The absolute best. I feel I should give you a badge so everyone knows just how top-notch you are."

"Yeah, that's all I need," Jack muttered. "Another fucking badge to piss some more people off."

Louis was staring at him, and immediately asked if he was referring to Dominique and the captain thing. It let Jack explain how it wasn't just her, though her reaction was part of it. It was mostly about Jane and how unenthusiastic she'd seemed; how she seemed to think him being Quidditch captain was a bad thing since it would be extra work. When he got to the part about how she'd more or less downplayed his interest in maybe going professional one day, Louis was looking rather concerned.

"She can't deny how good you are," Louis said. "She has eyes."

"I don't think she's denying that, I get the impression that she doesn't think I should do anything about it. That I should be focusing more on Charms or Herbology and go get a proper Ministry job one day."

Louis looked back out to the sea. "I get why you're frustrated, but maybe she's just shocked by the whooooole—" He let his sentence drag out to nothing when the front door suddenly opened and they both turned to look. Jane had appeared, and threw Louis a friendly smile before letting her gaze land on Jack. He stared at her for a moment, wondering what she wanted.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked in a tone that indicated she was planning on joining them.

"Nothing really," Jack offered, glancing at Louis. "School and stuff."

"How fantastic it is that Jack's Quidditch captain," Louis said automatically. "Completely deserved it, of course. Nobody better. Best man for the job."

She cocked her eyebrow. "What about your sister?"

"Well, she would have been the best _woman_ for the job, so technically..."

Jack smirked at him, knowing entirely what he was doing. Louis truly took talking him up to girls—even his own girlfriend, apparently—to the new heights. It was almost an art form.

Jane was nodding, her smile now far more proud looking than it had been back at his house hours before. "Yeah. It's really terrific."

Now it was Jack's turn to cock his eyebrow at her sudden admiration, but he reined it in once she came and sat beside him. He still wasn't sure why she was down here and not upstairs with the friend she'd been so keen to see. "What happened to wanting to visit with Victoire?"

"We did for a bit," she said. "But she's headed out."

Louis suddenly threw Jane a very pointed look. "Where? Don't tell me with Ted again."

Jane smiled and nodded. "She is."

Louis rolled his eyes, which Jack didn't quite understand, but Louis elaborated when he addressed Jane. "You haven't seen Vic in a month and a half, and she's blowing you off? Blowing you off for someone who, mind you, she has spent nearly every night this week with. And last week with! I'd be angry if I were you."

"No, I'm not," Jane said quickly. "We go back to school tomorrow and we'll have loads of time to hang out. She won't see Ted for ages."

"But why's she so keen on seeing Ted so much lately?" Louis asked. "I mean, yes, they're best friends, but they've been oddly inseparable lately."

Jane only shrugged before glancing out at the sea. Jack felt that was a deliberate attempt to avoid the question, so he turned back to Louis and offered, "Maybe they're messing around?"

Jane's head swung back around to look at Jack with wide, startled eyes. Louis, however, was shaking his head and laughing a touch. "Nah. I mean, I'm not saying it couldn't happen—it's been a running joke in the family for years that they're getting married, but…" He shook his head. "Vic's shit with secrets. And one that big?" He laughed again. "She'd tell everyone. She's always enjoyed showing off her boyfriends and relationships."

"I don't know, maybe she's not ready for people to know," Jack said, throwing Louis a specific look that he didn't think he was catching on to. Did Louis not just tell him how he was messing around with his friend and wasn't ready to let people know due to the reactions that would come out of it? Was he not seeing how easily it could be done?

"Do you want to go?" Jane suddenly asked, putting a hand on Jack's back rather urgently. "We can go to my place and hang out for a bit? We can do…" She paused. "Whatever."

There was something in that way she'd said 'whatever', as if to allude to wanting some alone time to...well, he wasn't sure what. Given the source, it was hard to believe she wanted to get him on his own to mess around since that wasn't how she usually approached the topic; he usually was the one putting in the work there to get them into various stages of undress. But it seemed even Louis had caught something because he was now staring at Jack with a very hidden sort of enthusiasm for him.

"Uh, yeah," Jack said, feeling more or less confused. "I guess so."

"Well, you two have fun doing...whatever," Louis said, hiding his smile from Jane but making sure Jack got a look at it. "I'll see you tomorrow on the platform."

* * *

**#21: Insufferable**

"Wait? _Last nigh_ t?" Louis asked in an impatient whisper.

"Yes," Jack whispered back.

" _And?"_

"I don't know. It was...I don't know," Jack said, their whispering continued. The pair were following Dominique down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express toward the front of the train. They were halfway through their journey to Hogwarts, though it was the first time since boarding that Jack had finally managed to get Louis on his own.

It had been a mad sort of ride so far. They'd been in a compartment with Victoire, Dominique, and Jane, and the news that Victoire _had_ actually been dating her friend Ted for the last month had come out and was now no longer a secret. That had taken Louis completely by surprise—he'd seemed gobsmacked—though Dominique apparently already knew. Jane had as well, and Jack actually did, too; only because he'd found out from Jane the night before after leaving the Weasleys' house. It was Victoire and Ted's relationship that—weirdly enough—set forth the rest of the almost unbelievable events that played out for Jack the remainder of that evening.

He'd had sex last night. Actual, real, putting his parts into hers, sex. He'd done it for the first time and it had all happened quickly and chaotically. One minute he and Jane had been talking, and the next—despite him having spent most of the day annoyed with her—he was naked, on top of her, and attempting to figure out just how this was supposed to work. He still wasn't quite sure how the hell it had come to be.

They'd gotten back to Jane's house, only to find it empty. Jane had given the place a quick once over, seemingly surprised that neither of her parents were home. She had then—rather uncharacteristically—asked him straight away to come up to her room. He'd gone along, assuming they'd watch some television and maybe snog a bit as they always did, but things went a bit off the rails once they were up there.

"You were right, you know," she had said after she'd shut the door behind them. "About Victoire and Ted."

"That they're messing around?" he asked, watching as she crossed the room to her bed and sat down. "So, they are?"

She nodded. "They have been since the World Cup. They're not just messing around. They're in love and it's all very official. It's also…" She looked at him, "a secret. Dominique knows, but not Louis. Only me and her. It's why I pulled you away because you were starting to give Louis ideas."

Jack let his eyebrows jump in a doubtful sort of way. These Weasley kids and their secret hookups with their friends. Who had the bloody time for all the secrecy?

"But," Jane continued, "she's going to tell everyone soon. She was just keeping it quiet while she was home because if her parents knew they were together, they'd be more strict about letting her go see him all the time and spending so much time at his flat. That's why I don't feel bad telling you now. Though—" She stared at him. "Maybe let Victoire tell her brother?"

He nodded as if to say he would, though he wasn't going to make any promises. He and Louis talked about everything, so if Victoire kept this a secret for much longer, it would likely come out. His loyalty was to Louis, not his sister. Not to mention, it was a rather stupid secret to keep.

"Anyway," Jane suddenly said, her voice oddly loaded with the weight of whatever she was currently thinking. "The thing with Vic and Ted got me thinking." She scooted over on the bed, as if to make room for him to sit. When she looked at him, her expression was silently asking him to join her.

"About?" Jack asked rather absently, though he did join her.

"Well, I mean, yes, they've known each other forever and obviously are past all that get-to-know-you stuff, but…." And here she started to blush a little. "She's already talking about how she wants to...how she'd be willing to…"

He stared at her.

"Have sex with him," she finally got out.

"Oh," Jack said, not entirely sure how this had anything to do with them or why she was telling him this, but he shrugged and offered a quick, "Good for them."

"And it got me thinking," she continued, "We've been together for awhile now, and I've never thought much about us doing it."

He blinked. Well...that made one of them. It would take him a couple of days if he tried to count the times it had crossed his mind.

"And I'm wondering why I haven't," she said, looking him in the eyes. "I know you have."

He stared at her. He didn't know how to answer that.

"You can admit it," she said with a small smile. "I get it. You've been really patient with me. You've never asked or tried to make me do anything I haven't wanted to. You've been really good about that. I appreciate that."

He shrugged. "If you don't want to, you don't want to. I only want to if you want to, too—"

"I want to," she said, her tone very businesslike. She suddenly moved further back onto her bed, away from the edge and closer to the pillows. "I think we should."

He continued to stare at her, only this time he didn't know how to answer this because he felt as if he'd just been pelted in the head with a Bludger. She wanted to...have sex? As in...?

"You want to do it _now?"_ he asked, wanting to make sure he understood her completely.

"If you do," she said, blushing further. "Other than me having thought this over and decided I was ready, I thought tonight may be good because you've been in a funk today and—" She was turning redder, "maybe it'll cheer you up."

Holy shit. Every thought in his head was now flying around his brain at a mile a minute. She wanted to have sex with him right then. Right now. She was staring at him from her bed. They were going to...He was going to… He'd thought about this moment plenty of times, and while it had never once played out with her bluntly asking him, he wasn't going to worry about the details.

"And I'm not sure how long my parents will be out, so if you did want to do this…"

He started kicking his shoes off; not needing to be told twice.

It had been weird. Weird in the expected way—as in two virgin kids barely knowing where things went, how to move, how awkward it could be, how painful it was for her; then it was weird in the unexpected ways. It hadn't lasted very long because he'd stopped when she didn't seem to be into it at all. She'd actually started crying, and not the sort of happy tears he sometimes saw in the movies, but full on sobs. She'd said something about how she didn't know what was wrong with her, because she swore she wasn't upset about him, but it was definitely disconcerting. It wasn't something he was particularly keen on doing again any time soon.

And while he'd calmed her down and they'd had a rather nice rest of the nice just cuddling and watching the television, things felt weird. Even when he'd seen her at the platform that morning, their kiss hello hadn't felt as typical as it once had. He wasn't sure if it was just post-bad sex jitters that they needed to work out of their system or what, but it didn't stop him from trying his hardest to attempt to get Louis on his own so he could unload on to him.

So finally, when Dominique claimed she was going to go and find Sarah in her compartment and Louis jumped—literally—at the chance to follow, Jack also quickly agreed to tag along.

"I mean, she cried," Jack said, still whispering to him,

"People cry during sex," Louis offered. "They get emotional and wrapped up in the moment."

"It wasn't that kind of crying," Jack mumbled. "Maybe I'm just really bad."

Louis started to snicker, though at that same moment, Dominique had suddenly stopped and whirled around on the pair of them. She was now eyeing Jack. "Wait, you had sex? You and Whit finally—?"

"Mind your business," Louis said, using his hands to physically spin her forward once more. "This is private conversation."

That made Dominique laugh, throwing both Louis and Jack looks over her shoulder, "About bloody time. You've only been together for about a century."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Plenty of people wait awhile."

"And who are you to judge?" Louis asked her. " _You've_ been waiting for sixteen years and counting."

"There's a difference between waiting when you've decided to be in a bloody relationship, and waiting because the entire population of males at this school is complete and utter shit," Dominique muttered.

As she spoke, the compartment door that they'd just passed suddenly slid open rather rapidly. Out of it popped Henry Davies, quickly followed by the head of Griffin Giggleswick poking out behind him.

"Speaking of utter shit..." Dominique added with a tone of irritation. "Though, I shouldn't be surprised it summoned these two."

"What did you do yourself?" Davies asked, nodding toward her very short hair with a look of shock.

"She's so insufferable that even her hair fucked off," Giggleswick joked.

"Ug, I'm not in the mood," Dominique said, her expression stony as she turned to immediately carry on down the corridor. "Go fuck yourselves."

"You look as if you got caught on the wrong end of a Severing Charm?" Giggleswick called after her.

And just like that, Dominique suddenly whipped around, pulled out her wand, and pointed it directly at Giggleswick's face. Everyone flinched and jumped a bit, though it was Davies who taunted. "Aw, are you going to go and curse him and get suspended from Quidditch _again_ before the season's even started?" He looked over at Jack. "Your first role as captain should really be to find yourself a Seeker who isn't such a fucking psycho."

"No one asked you," Jack said coldly.

"Suit yourself," Davies shrugged. "It's only a matter of time before she fucks up and costs your team everything you've worked for—" He looked at Dominique and loudly said, " _again_."

"You'd love it if I wasn't around this season," Dominique said to him. "Only way you might have a chance against Gryffindor."

"I don't know about all that," Davies said, glancing over at Giggleswick. "But I do truly enjoy it whenever you're not around."

Giggleswick nodded, now looking at Dominique with a very smug smile. "Tell me, Weasley, how'd you feel watching Ians get captain when everyone knows how badly you wanted it?"

She flinched at that, her grip on her wand tightening.

"Maybe you finally had to stop and ask yourself, 'Why am I worthless? Why didn't I get picked?'"

Multiple versions of "Fuck off" came from Jack and Louis; both of them talking over each other as Davies muttered, "Shit, Griff, do you want to get cursed?"

Meanwhile, Dominique's jaw had tightened. There was a fire in her eyes that Louis was now reacting to rather uneasily. He had just reached out to force her hand to lower her wand, and it was perfectly timed because in the next second, she'd sent a curse of some kind straight into the floor at Davies' feet. Everyone jumped, but it didn't hit anyone.

"What the fuck!?' Giggleswick yelled out.

"Nic, you can't do this again!" Louis snapped. "I'm a bloody Prefect. I can't stand by and let you—!"

"If you're a Prefect then do your job!" Giggleswick yelled. "She just tried to curse us!"

"No one asked you!" Louis said, turning onto him. "Get back into your compartment now!"

"We're the ones being attacked," Davies said. "How about you take care of the actual problem?" He gestured to Dominique. "Someone needs to!"

"You foul, piece of—" Dominique began, looking as if she could strike again, but Louis was already grabbing at her wand arm. Jack told both the Ravenclaws to "fuck off" again before now nudging Louis and Dominique to keep moving along the corridor. "We'll get them on the pitch." He then called over his shoulder to Davies. "Watch your knackers out there. Would hate for the whole school to watch you cry about them again."

"She's a fucking nutter," Giggleswick muttered, loud enough for them to hear. They'd gotten a few steps down, with Louis lecturing Dominique about how she couldn't keep doing that and how she needed to stop letting them bother her so much, when Davies' voice rang out once more.

"You know Weasley, I actually think your hair's a vast improvement. I'm going to even say it looks good."

She'd wiggled her arm away from Louis and cast some sort of curse over her shoulder; barely missing Jack and Davies. She'd yelled, "No one cares what you think!"

"I try to be nice, just once…" came Davies' voice, which was followed by the snapping of a compartment door.

* * *

**#22: Really**

"Really?"

That seemed to be the only word Jack heard from anyone these days.

"I've got Quidditch practice," he told Jane, who was still acting a bit stand-offish of him since the day they'd had sex. Things were definitely awkward now; strained even. When he tried to touch her—entirely in an innocent fashion, like hand holding or small touches—she seemed startled. They kissed now more out of obligation and habit rather than because the urge struck. After the first couple of months back at school passed, they seemed to mostly be going through the motions of their relationship rather than actually having one.

It was always why he was so surprised she even cared when he told her he was—yet again—going to the Quidditch pitch.

"Really?" she'd asked him, her tone sounding inconvenienced. She did this all of the time now, even though he knew for a fact that even if he was around the common room, she'd probably be off with Victoire or nose deep working on her N.E.W.T. work—or both. She'd barely be paying attention to him.

"Really," he mumbled, tired of having this conversation every time. "You know I have to."

She always stopped short of rolling her eyes, but he could tell she wanted to. Yes, he spent a lot more time on the pitch than he had the previous year, but that was mostly because he had more time now since O.W.L.s weren't looming. Being captain obviously came with loads more responsibilities, he now also had a team to train and track, and he genuinely preferred to be out there flying instead of in the common room getting attitude. But the absolute main reason he spent so much time out there was because he was trying to take Quidditch more seriously now that he was considering it as a career goal.

On that pitch, on his broom was his refuge; his space to clear his head from the drama of the rest of his life. That's how it was supposed to be...at least, under normal circumstances. But it seemed the drama that was his life now refused to leave him even in his happy place. Even on the pitch, he was getting an attitude copped toward him every possible chance that arose.

"Really?" Dominique said to him once he'd made his final selection to fill the empty Keeper spot Durrin had left. "Her? You're serious?"

The 'her' in question was Kenley Mortimer, a blonde fifth-year girl who Tommy, Jack's Beating partner, was pushing hard for. The two were friends—maybe more—and while that had no bearing on Jack's decision, she had stopped the most Quaffles during tryouts. Her flying was good—very natural—which seemed almost wasted on a Keeper. And while she was slower to get to the Quaffle than Jack wanted, she had really good instincts. They just needed to be fine tuned.

Jack stared at Dominique. She'd been snippy with him lately, which he'd expected given her coldness toward him lately. He knew the dynamic change between them out here would take some getting used to, but he was hoping she'd get used to it sooner rather than later. "Why not?"

"She's rubbish," she said matter-of-factly, and with an aura of smug disapproval.

"She's not. She stopped the most Quaffles."

"Pullbroke," she said, referring to a fourth-year girl, "stopped nearly as many Quaffles and she flies much better!"

"' _Nearly as many'_ is not "the most,'" Jack countered. "Kenley stopped the most and she's got loads of potential." He looked away." And Pullbroke is in about ten other societies and clubs. She's spread too thin."

"We don't need potential, we need skill now," Dominique said, her anger rising. "Get a fucking clue, Jack. I get she's pretty, but…"

"It had absolutely nothing to do with that," he said. "Pretty faces don't win Quidditch Cups, so I couldn't care less."

She scoffed. "It's clear you couldn't care less about this team either…"

But it didn't end with his selection of Kenley to the team. In fact, she started to become much worse. So much worse. She began riding him on every, possible thing he did out there. He wanted the Chasers to learn touch and go routes, she would tell them—loudly—how they were wasting their time and how they should focus on more core passing drills. He would give Kenley tips of broom handling to build her speed; Dominique would tell everyone just how backwards and wrong he was—though never offered any suggestions of her own to help. He recommended a handle polish that he was keen on to Bernard Eatins, their fourth-year Chaser—and even then, she called him out on having poor taste in polishes.

He'd almost completely lost it on her the day before Halloween when she made a snide remark about how ineffective a backhanded swing technique he favored for knocking off Bludgers was while he'd been trying to teach Tommy. He'd mostly restrained himself, but let a, "Are you the bloody Beater here, or am I!?" escape him.

She wouldn't stop. Every single practice, it was something new that he was doing terribly wrong. He didn't understand where it was all coming from; why she wouldn't cut him a break. They had always worked so well together out there in the past. They'd been allies during matches and training. He'd always been able to count on her opinions and knowledge, as well as just having her there to run thoughts and ideas by. They'd gotten along so well out there, that he'd assumed it had made them friends; the kind who would support each other if one of them was the captain instead of undermining every bloody thing he said.

But he'd apparently been wrong because from the moment they'd stepped out onto this pitch this season, she's turned into an absolute nightmare.

"I'd have thought she'd have got over it by now," Louis said as he, Sarah, and Jack sat in the library working on their Transfiguration on a November evening. "She can't change anything, other than getting herself thrown off the team." He turned to look at Sarah. "Lucky for her she's good."

"Doesn't matter," Jack mumbled, his head lazily resting on his arm as he watched ink drops fall from the tip of his quill onto parchment. "Lately, none of us have been very good."

Gryffindor had been beaten handily by Slytherin at the start of the season, and actually lost to Hufflepuff the weekend before. They had one last match before the end of term against Ravenclaw, and the odds were not in their favor; not the way their team kept failing to come together. Dominique's attitude and Jack's frustrations were making for a very glum atmosphere that the rest of the team wasn't handling well.

"Honestly, mate, I know my sister," Louis said, both somehow managing to write his essay and talk to him simultaneously. "Part of me thinks you should threaten to kick her off. She responds to push back. People so rarely do it to her that I think it startles her."

"I don't know," Sarah said from her seat. "It could also backfire and you could end up jinxed."

"Then I wouldn't have to threaten to kick her off," Jack muttered dully, still watching the drops of ink plop down. "Longbottom would do it for me."

"Have you talked to her about it?" Sarah asked.

Jack threw her a look. "Oh, yeah, sure. We had a lovely chat over tea where she was completely open and honest about her feelings."

Louis smirked, though Sarah did nothing more than offer a weak sort of acknowledgement that she could understand how talking to Dominique wasn't an easy task by any means.

"Plus, you two are ones to talk," he said. "Have either of you talked to her about—" He gestured between the two of them, "this?"

Neither said anything, though they exchanged quick looks. Louis and Sarah had still been hooking up in secret around the school and whenever they got the chance. They'd spent the first two months of term keeping things casual—no labels, just enjoying snogging and some more of the physical aspects. Louis said he kept pushing for more because he was mad about her, but Sarah still wasn't sure she could be with him given the complications with both Dominique and Natalie.

Leave it to Louis to wear her down though, because in the last week or so, Louis had said they'd finally agreed to make things official—or as official as they could be in secret. The problem was, more people were finding out.

It had been only Jack and Flynn for the longest time, but then Jane saw them snogging in a corridor on Halloween. Had she told him, Jack, before Victoire, he would have been able to stop her and explain things; but, as expected, Victoire found out straight away and naturally confronted her brother.

Sarah nearly had a panic attack at the fact Victoire knew, but it had been a couple of weeks now and Victoire hadn't said a word to Dominique. Louis claimed it was because she'd be a hypocrite if she did, seeing as she'd kept her own relationship secret for reasons she seemed to think made sense. He also claimed to have told her that if she said something to Dominique, he'd tell their parents about all the sneaking around she and Ted Lupin did that summer.

"I'm going to talk to her," Louis said. "But, as you said, she's been in a shit mood lately…"

Sarah was nodding. "She has been. We've thought about talking to her at least three times now."

"But each time, she's in a more foul mood than the last," Louis muttered. "I don't know what's got her wand in a knot lately."

Jack had been wondering the same thing. That being said, it was almost a little comforting to know that he wasn't the only one facing Dominique's wrath lately. He sighed loudly, throwing down his quill. "Well, now you know why I don't want to talk to her either." He looked across the library. "Seems I can't go anywhere lately without someone being angry with me."

"Really?" Sarah asked, frowning now. "You and Whit are still…? Things aren't getting better?"

He shook his head.

"She's being distant when he's around," Louis began, "but then she gets upset with him because he's away at practice or whatever. He can't win. Oh, and she gets really irritated whenever he so much as talks to Kenley Mortimer. No other girls, just Kenley."

"Which makes no sense, because she's my teammate," Jack said. "I have to talk to her. But Jane's paranoid because Kenley's a flirt..."

Sarah's expression twitched a bit at that. "Well, she is really flirty. Don't get me wrong, I like Kenley, but sometimes I think she needs a reminder on boundaries because she'll go over and sit in some boy's lap—even if they have a girlfriend—then play it off as being playful. And yes, the boy shouldn't be allowing it either, but I can see how it would bother some people."

"Right, but I don't do that!" Jack said, his voice a touch higher than acceptable in the library, earning him a shush from Madam Pince. He lowered his voice again. "We do nothing more than talk."

"I guess Whit's insecure about it," Sarah said. "You two haven't talked about it?"

Jack stared at her. That seemed to be her advice for everything. "Not really. Half of me doesn't care. I'm tired of it."

"You already know what I'm going to say," Louis said, throwing him a look. "If you're not into it any longer, then you need to break up with her."

"Oh," Sarah said with another frown, which earned her looks from both of the boys. "It's just...you two have always been so sweet."

"That was then," Louis said. "Now she's always complaining about how much time he spends at Quidditch and how she doesn't see him, but do you think she's bothered to go and visit him down at the pitch?"

"Well, why should she?" Sarah asked. "He'd be busy practicing. It would be a distraction. Plus, she's got N.E.W.T.s to prepare for. She's loaded with work."

"But then I try to sit with her and study," Jack said, "and half the time she brushes me off because she and Victoire need to do Charms of Defense Against the Dark Arts, or whatever."

Sarah continued to frown. "I'm not saying you shouldn't do it, I'm just saying it's a bit sad, is all. I liked you two together."

Jack sighed. He knew Louis was right—he should probably try and end things, but they'd been together for so long. Nine months—that was ages. He'd gotten so used to her being in his life—to having a girlfriend—that it would be weird not having one. Plus, he did still care about her a lot. He didn't want to hurt her. What if they really were both just in a shitty spot in life because of his Quidditch stuff and her exams? They'd always been fine before all of this...

He didn't break up with her that week, or the following week. He continued to let the same, annoying back and forth play out and slowly drive him mad, only to have his misery completely exacerbated by Dominique.

"Really?" Kenley had asked him at Quidditch practice, after he'd explained to her how if she positioned herself lower in her seat on her broom, she'd be able to swat off Quaffles earlier because it would allow for a better broom grip. He'd heard Durrin talk about it over the years. "I can't believe I haven't tried that before."

She was smiling brightly at him, and Jack almost forgot what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a friendly smile from a girl lately. She also had some of the longest eyelashes he'd ever seen, which she fluttered over her wide, green eye in a way that had to have been practiced. It was sort of distracting—but not in an unpleasant way.

He smiled back a little lazily, looking away. "Yeah. You should give it a shot up there."

"I'll do that," she said with a very purposeful look, as if she wanted him to know she meant that. "You're really clever about all these Quidditch tricks. I see why they made you captain over the others."

She really was very flirty. She was very much the type to hug every bloke in the room and have a thoughtful anecdote about each of them. How their haircut looked nice. Had they been working out? They seemed stronger. How something they said was so funny, and then she'd laugh as if she meant it. She played Tommy like a fiddle with it all, but Jack genuinely didn't sense that it came from a malicious place. She was a sweet girl who just naturally flirted as part of her personality. She never crossed any serious lines; she knew how to walk that tightrope. He sort of appreciated the attention with everything else going on in his life.

"I've picked up a thing or two," he said with a smile, gesturing for her to give it a try up on her broom. She said no more and took off to the rings, where Eatins, Devon, and Alex were all waiting to take a shot on her with the Quaffle. He wasn't quite sure his little tip worked because more Quaffles sailed past her than she stopped. He sighed as he watched it happen five times in a row.

"She can't stop a fucking Quaffle to save her life!" yelled Dominique all of the sudden, causing Jack to swing around and see that she had landed and was stomping toward him. "Time and time again, everything goes straight past her, but you don't want to see it!"

He felt his mouth tighten. He was Not. In. The. Fucking. Mood.

"Is she blowing you after practice?" she asked, looking him straight in the eyes. "Is that why you refuse to admit it?"

Was she... _what?_ Now he felt his entire body tighten. Why did everyone keep thinking that he's got some secret feelings for this girl? Or that the only reason he'd talk to her, work with her, or want anything to do with her was because he was apparently not only getting sexual favors, but also cheating on his girlfriend with her? He hadn't done a bloody fucking thing except be nice to her and give her a chance on the Quidditch team, but apparently that meant he had to be getting something out of it.

And even if all this shit were true, who was Dominique to feel she had the power to criticize any of this? Hell, at this point, the only reason she was still on the team was because her brother was his best friend and he felt a deep sense of gratitude for her having helped him become the Quidditch player he was today. It sure wasn't because she was playing well lately, because she wasn't. If she was going to come after anyone for getting special treatment from him, she needed to look in the bloody mirror.

He was done with it. He was done with her.

"Fuck off!" he yelled back.

"You fuck off!" she continued to yell, completely unfazed and clearly ready to go to battle. "You can't even see it!"

"How is she supposed to get any better when all you do is harass her?!" he shouted, ready to take her on whether she cursed him or not. "Everyone's fucking sick of it." He gestured around to the rest of the team, who were all landing now with their familiar looks of ' _here we go again_ ' on their faces. "If you don't want to be on the team, then leave. I'll find someone new!"

She laughed at that. She thought he was bluffing "Who?!"

"I'll be the fucking Seeker if I have to be!" he said, chucking his bat on the ground and watching as a dent appeared. "I don't fucking care! You can go!" He pointed in the direction of the changing rooms. "Just go!"

"Fine!" she screamed, turning and marching away without another word. He watched her go, but didn't feel the least bit upset about any of it. Let her go. He truly didn't care. Maybe it was time he actually found a new Seeker. Maybe he needed to rid his life of all of these girls who seemed to hate everything he did. Maybe that was the solution to all of his problems.

"Really? You're thinking about kicking her off the team?" Jane asked later at dinner. The two of them were seated off by themselves since they'd been attempting to have a moment together for once, but it was already spiraling into a typical terse conversation.

"I've told you time and time again that she's been a nightmare," Jack said to her in between bites of chops. "She undermines me at every turn. She's seriously got it out for Kenley."

Jane stared at him. "Well, if Kenley's not any good, she's not any good."

"Who told you she wasn't any good?"

"Nicki says…"

"You can't listen to her," Jack immediately said. "She refuses—"

Jane looked away, exhaling deeply and obviously frustrated. It forced Jack to look down at his plate and stare at it's half eaten contents. He didn't even know what to say anymore. He really didn't. "Why do I even talk Quidditch with you? You obviously hate it when I bring it up."

They'd spent the rest of dinner poking at their meals and offering curt, one worded answers to each other before they finally decided to call it and head back to Gryffindor common room. Eatins had called over to him as they left—asking if they had training the following day—to which Jane muttered, "Obviously," under her breath, setting Jack off even further. They exited the Great Hall, Jack explaining—for what felt like the hundredth time that week—that Quidditch was his priority and that he couldn't blow everything off because—

"Jack," called a voice. When he turned, he saw Dominique standing there. Oh, fucking fantastic. When it rains if fucking pours. Why not have both she and Jane have a go at him tonight?

"Uh," she said, glancing between both him and Jane, "I wondered if I could have a word."

He stared at her, not at all interested in any of this. "I'm busy."

"One minute. I promise," she said, her tone strangely earnest in a way he hadn't heard in ages. "I'll make it quick. It's just about earlier. About Quidditch."

"Of course it's Quidditch," Jane muttered, throwing him a look before she walked several steps away toward the wall.

He watched her go, and while he felt he could not win either way in this situation, Dominique was—for once—coming off as the lesser of two evils. He might as well take his chances with that one instead of the guaranteed angry one.

"Fine," he said, closing the gap between him and Dominique. "What?"

She seemed uncharacteristically fidgety. Was she anxious? "I'm sorry about earlier. I was out of line. I've been out of line. I fucked up. I wanted you to know that." She took a deep breath. "I understand that you're the captain, and I need to respect that. And I will. From now on, I'll rein it in."

Well, that happened. He didn't even know what to say. Dominique Weasley was actually….apologizing. Dominique didn't apologize to anyone unless she felt she had to, so perhaps she'd finally realized she'd pushed things past the limits of no return. Perhaps she'd sensed that he'd seriously considered booting her off the team.

But now, with this, he knew he wouldn't. His loyalty to her for everything she'd done for him in the past was too great; it would have taken everything he had to chuck her even when he'd been angrier. It would have been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. If she meant what she said here, then he wouldn't have to.

He'd acknowledged her apology, though things clearly weren't anywhere near fixed. Still, they'd left things better than they'd been before. He'd returned to find Jane waiting for him with a cross look on her face, which...really? As they both headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, a very clear thought occurred to him as they walked. He'd managed to salvage one relationship tonight. It was a safe bet that the other wasn't going to be so lucky.

* * *

**#23: Unfair Advantage**

Jack was lying on his bed in his childhood bedroom, levitating the yellow duck up in the air and spinning it round and round. He'd been mindlessly watching it for the last several minutes, mostly because he didn't have the energy to do much else.

"Jack!" called his mother's voice from downstairs. "Dinner's ready." She's paused before adding, "You need to eat something."

He ignored her, instead now pointing his wand at his door and forcing it shut the rest of the way. With a flick of his wrist, he made sure it was locked.

He'd already been home for two days for the Christmas holidays. What should have been an eventful trip home—now that he could show off his magic and skills since he was finally of age—had instead been nothing more than him hiding away and feeling mopey and sorry for himself.

He and Jane had split up just before he'd come home, and while he knew it was coming and had to be done, it had hurt more than he thought it would.

"We should probably end it then," she said to him rather tentatively, as the pair walked around the lake together on that cold evening. She'd actually come down to Quidditch practice to have this conversation with him, which originally annoyed him more than anything else. He had things to do there; she knew that. Why would she have...?

But it actually made perfect sense when he thought about it. She didn't like Quidditch and the role it played in his life. Why not let it be known one last time?

"We probably should," he agreed, his voice monotone. They'd spent the first half of the walk talking about how they'd grown apart and things had changed, so it was just a matter of time before one of them said the words. He'd let her be the one to do it.

Jane was staring at him now, though he kept his eyes focused on the stony path beneath his feet. "OK…" she'd said in a voice barely above a whisper. When he finally did chance a look over at her, she looked upset. If he was honest, he was too. While understanding this had to be done, it didn't mean it didn't sting.

But that sting had quickly turned into anger once he found out she'd been going around telling people he had feelings for Kenley, and that had been the underlying reason they broke up. Prior to that, he'd actually been handling their breakup fairly well; he hadn't been heartbroken, just trying to figure out how to handle the new void in his life. But after hearing what Jane was telling people—making him seem like the arsehole—he was back to feeling like shit about it. Why did it have to come to that?

There was a knock on his door, and while he expected his father or his mother to gently suggest to him that he come down to eat, he was shocked when Jiffy's voice carried through the door instead. He knew his brother was due home any day now for Christmas, but he hadn't expected him yet. "Hey, Jacky. Can I come in?"

Jack pointed his wand at the door and unlocked it, though immediately returned to levitating the duck without a word. When Jiffy pushed open the door, he stopped and looked rather shocked to see what Jack was doing. He was actually gawking. It would have been the first time he'd witnessed him performing an actual spell.

"Holy shit, you can make it float," Jiffy said in barely above a whisper.

"I can make it fly, too," he said lamely, before flicking his wand and sending the duck soaring into his brother's face. "Duck."

Jiffy caught it, completely unfazed that it had hit him in the face, but rather just staring at it as if he'd never seen the thing before. He finally muttered, "I feel you now have a new and unfair advantage to this game."

Jack grinned a little. "You're home."

"Caught the train a day early," he said, tossing the duck to the side. His hair was shaggier and longer than Jack had ever seen it and he looked as if he desperately needed a decent meal. "Mam and Dad told me about you and Jane."

Jack shrugged and stretched himself out on his bed. "It was a long time coming. We've been having issues since the end of the summer."

Jiffy was nodding as he went and sat himself into Jack's desk chair. "Still, you two were together for a while. Especially for a bunch of teenagers. When I was seventeen, I was lucky if anything lasted more than a couple of weeks." He seemed to think about that. "Shit, even now, I don't think I've made it past six months—and half of that I was away and on the road."

Jack stared at them, not entirely sure where he was going with this.

"What happened?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't..." He sighed. "Mostly, you were right. In the end, the fact that she didn't like Quidditch did not work out well for us."

Jiffy smirked a little. "Girls and this Quidditch thing don't seem to mix."

"I can't win," Jack said. "I date one that plays it, she gets angry when I actually play the bloody game and do my job. I date one that doesn't like it, and now it's this awful thing and she can't understand why I care so much." He groaned. "There's got to be a middle ground."

"There is, and you'll figure it out," he said. "It's shit, it is. And I know nothing I'm going to say will make it better, but...I can buy you a couple of pints and try." He stood up. "Come on."

"What? Right now?" Jack asked.

"Yes, right now," he said obviously. "Go get your coat, you muppet. It's my job as your older brother to teach you the proper way to drink away your sorrows. Time to get you properly pissed."

Jack pulled himself up. "I've been pissed before."

"Yeah, but you haven't been "sad, breakup' pissed," Jiffy said as he stood up from his chair. "And there are levels you need to unlock as far as I'm concerned. It's like a video game when you think about it." He smirked. "Next one is turning that 'sad, breakup' drinking into a 'happy rebound with some girl you meet at the pub' drinking."

Jack must have made a face, because Jiffy quickly added, "You're not there yet, Jacky. Let's stick to level one first."

* * *

**#24: Fucking Bizarre**

"Let me see if I follow," Jack was saying to Louis, Sarah, and Flynn on the train back to Hogwarts after the holidays. He'd apparently missed a lot while away, because Louis had just spoken for ten minutes straight trying to catch him up on everything that had happened to everyone over the holidays. "You told Dominique about—?"

"We didn't tell her," Sarah corrected. "She found out about it from Victoire's boyfriend."

"Yeah, Ted and his big mouth," Louis muttered.

"Alright, she found out about you two," Jack corrected, "and naturally she went mental about it."

Louis was nodding. Sarah sighed.

"But, you're all cool now?" Jack asked.

"If by cool, you mean she's only speaking to us when she needs to," Louis said, glancing over at Sarah, "and is willing to begrudgingly accept things with scoffing and eye rolls, then yes."

"If by cool you mean you can feel the annoyance radiating off of her whenever we're together," Sarah muttered. "Then, yes. She's cool."

"Right," Jack said with a nod, knowing that feeling all too well. "But, you think she'll come around?"

"She's got to," said Louis. "She doesn't have much of a choice. We're together and she either accepts it or…" He shrugged. "Find new people to hang out with? We're not hiding it anymore." With that, he reached over and took Sarah's hand in his.

"What about Natalie?" Jack asked.

Louis' expression said he didn't care, but Sarah looked concerned as she said, "I'm telling her when we get back to school. Today."

"Get ready for some fireworks," Flynn mumbled.

"She has no right to be upset," Louis said. "She broke up with me."

"That's the thing about feelings," Jack said. "You can't really control how people have them."

Louis conceded to that, just as Dominique suddenly passed by the outside of their compartment, clearly headed somewhere. She'd glanced in casually, as one would when passing, but once she got a look at them she turned away as quickly as possible and hustled along.

"I wonder who she's sitting with?" Sarah asked, craning her neck to watch her as she passed. "She seemed adamant about finding another compartment earlier."

"Probably Vic and her friends," Louis offered before a slow smile crept across his face. "Or maybe Davies."

Sarah smiled as well. "Could you imagine?"

"I personally can't imagine any of it," Flynn said. "It's fucking bizarre."

' _Fucking bizarre' was right_ , Jack thought as he let his gaze drift toward the train window, where the passing countryside rolled along. Out of everything that had happened in the last few weeks, the news that Dominique was fooling around with Henry-fucking-Davies, of all people, was the strangest to date.

He wasn't entirely sure of the details, seeing as he and Dominique still barely spoke to each other outside of Quidditch. While she was nowhere near as bad as she'd been a month ago, things were still strained between them. There were still minor arguments, but she had the good sense to walk away before they grew into full on rows.

Somewhere in between all of this though, she and Henry Davies had started hooking up—mostly in between Quidditch practices. He'd heard the news from Flynn, who'd heard it from Sarah after she'd walked up on the two of them pressed up against each other in the Quidditch arena one evening.

How he'd never noticed it happening right under his nose, Jack had no idea; that just went to show how little he and Dominique had to do with each other lately. He'd been focused on his failing relationship; she'd been focused on snogging the person she hated most in the entire world. No matter how many times he tried to wrap his head around that, he could never make it make sense. People are strange.

"Did I tell you he stopped by the house over the holiday?" Louis was now saying to Flynn, looking pained to even say it. "They went flying."

Jack turned a horrified look onto Louis. She'd taken Davies out to their wooded area and flown with him? But...he was the enemy. Snog him all she wanted, but when it came to Quidditch, boundaries had to be drawn. She couldn't be flying with that fucker.

"Bet they were doing more than flying," Flynn offered. "Guess that means they're official, then."

"That's the funny thing," Sarah said. "She says they're not. Will tell you up and down how it's just physical. How she doesn't even fancy him."

"If you mention the word 'boyfriend' to her, she'll curse you," Louis said.

There was a general discussion as to how that made little sense, and that she could pretend all she wanted, but if the two were acting the part then what was the point of pretending they weren't. But, then again, this was Dominique. Jack would have to do an entire O.W.L. level's worth of study to understand that one.

Another group was passing by the compartment now—fifth-year girls with Kenley bringing up the rear. They'd made to walk straight by, but Kenley—after seeing them—doubled back and opened the compartment door. She smiled brightly at the group of them. "Hello all. Good holiday?"

There was a collection of cordial agreements and pleasant exchanges; each claiming their holiday had been fine. Kenley said hers had been good as well, before she turned her smile onto Jack, slowly letting it fall into something far more sympathetic looking. "How are you doing?"

He assumed she meant the breakup, so he offered her a quick shrug, a forced smile, and mild sounding, "I'm alright."

She continued to smile. "Good. Here's hoping things are better from here on out since it seems like last term weighed really heavily on you. Only good things ahead."

With one last lingering sort of smile, she turned to leave, snapping the door shut behind her and rushing off to catch up with her friends down the corridor. Jack turned back to the rest of his friends, who were all now watching him rather carefully.

"Can I ask why you're not immediately attempting to...?" Flynn began to ask as he pointed to the spot Kenley had just been standing. "Because she seems really keen on you."

"That's how she is with everyone," Jack said. He looked over to Louis and Sarah to back up his claims, however neither of them were contradicting what Flynn had said. Louis was even looking as if he agreed with him.

"She is cute," Louis said in an encouraging sort of way. "And she does stop to talk to you all of the time. Why not?"

"Why not?" Jack said, a bit surprised that he had to explain this. "I just got out of a nearly ten month relationship."

"No one's saying you need to start something serious," Flynn said. "A bit of fun with a pretty girl wouldn't hurt you."

"It's not a bit of fun when your ex is convinced—and has everyone else convinced—that you fancied that particular girl."

"Yeah, I think it's a bit murky territory," Sarah said slowly. "If he and Kenley started seeing each other, people would talk."

"Right," Jack said. "And that's not even taking into account that I'm convinced Tommy fancies her."

"Has he told you that?" Flynn asked.

"He doesn't have to, I can tell."

"But he's not with her, so who cares?"

"I do. He's my beating partner," Jack said. "That's a relationship I need intact. I've had enough issues with me and Nic fighting all season, I don't need to add Tommy to the mix." He shook his head. "There are other girls out there, but I only have one partner out on that pitch."

Flynn's expression seemed to find everything Jack was saying to be a complete load of tosh. "Sorry that I would refuse to let a cute girl who chats me up every chance she gets become a missed opportunity."

* * *

**#25: Tongue Deep**

The portrait hole swung open and Jack entered the common room still attempting to catch his breath. He'd been jogging up and down the stairs of the castle for the last hour, which had been even more challenging than one would think given the constantly changing nature of the staircases. Also, there was the added hazard of Peeves the Poltergeist attempting to chuck ink pellets at him as he went for a good twenty minutes of it.

But he didn't have many choices, seeing as this winter was proving to be one of the more brutal ones that he could remember since arriving at Hogwarts. Quidditch practices had been agonizingly cold as of late, what with the frigid winds whipping at them to the point he kept calling everything off early. It had forced him to seek refuge for whatever workouts he could manage indoors; his bones could only take so much cold.

He'd actually begun working out quite a bit since the start of term, mostly out of boredom. It started as a mix of now having more free time—due to the Quidditch weather hiatus, having no girlfriend, and Louis now being spread thin between his own girlfriend and studying for the early N.E.W.T.s he was going to take—but things had turned into a bit of a lifestyle change. He was eating better, sleeping more, and making time to work out everyday.

He figured if he was serious about taking his Quidditch to the next level, he really should get into the best shape he could. He'd started running up and down stairs, using the Quidditch changing room for calisthenics and stretches; he'd even had Louis help him transfigure random objects into varying weights, so he'd managed to fit in weight training as well. He'd never been out of shape, per se, but the more he worked and saw the results of his training, he realized he hadn't really even been _in s_ hape either—not until recently.

"Did you just get back from practice?" came Tommy's voice, and Jack saw that he and some of his friends were working at a table nearest to the portrait hole. "That was over an hour ago."

"I went for a run," he offered.

"Out there!?" he asked, gesturing to a window. "In that wind?"

"Up and down the stairs of the castle," he said, rolling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt to his elbows. It was when he did this he noticed that one of Peeves' ink pellets had struck him in the arm since there were black stains on his sleeve.

"Oh," Tommy said, as if that answer made sense. "For a second I thought maybe you were following in Nicki's footsteps and having some after practice fun." He made a very suggestive face. "If you know what I mean..."

Jack smirked, knowing exactly what he meant. He'd been referring to Dominique often hanging around after practice—or getting there early—to get in some alone time with Davies. It had become a bit of a joke between the two of them.

"I wish I could say I was," Jack offered before setting off toward the boys' dormitory, where he showered, changed, and grabbed his school bag. He had loads of homework to catch up on, and a particularly nasty Transfiguration essay to tackle by the following morning. He'd thus far managed...the title. That was it. However, luckily for him, Louis had finished his earlier in the week and had told him that he was welcome to look his over for ideas.

As he made his way back down to the common room, his eyes immediately scanned the place for Louis. He found Flynn sitting with his brother—a fourth-year—and his friends, all of them fucking around over something. Tommy and his mates were still near the door, though they'd been joined by some of their female friends, including Kenley who was tousling Tommy's hair playfully.

At the center of the room, near the fireplace, a large group of mostly seventh-years, including Jane, Victoire, Devon, and Alex were currently busy working on something N.E.W.T. related, as they always were. Among them, he noticed Louis—with Sarah sitting in a chair nearby, idly reading—and Jack already knew they had to be studying Herbology or Charms. Those two subjects were the ones Louis was planning to sit early N.E.W.T. for, which meant he always sat in when the group worked on one of those.

Jack sighed. He had no desire to walk over there and ask Louis to borrow his essay if Jane was sitting there; they were still awkward around each other and generally avoided one another if they could. It also meant that if Louis and Sarah were busy with Jane and that lot tonight, then Jack was not only on his own for his essay, but also in terms of company.

He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and decided to leave the common room, realizing now that he would probably need the help of the library to be able to knock out something Professor Ivanson would find acceptable.

As soon as he'd made his way down there, he'd hung a left toward a grumpy looking Madam Pince and headed straight toward the back. He preferred the tables over here because people tended to go the opposite direction, leaving the left side quieter unless the library was particularly busy. It wasn't busy tonight, and he only ran into a handful of other people back there, though one had taken him completely by surprise.

Dominique was sitting there hunched over a piece of parchment, her quill scribbling furiously. She looked as if she'd come straight from Quidditch practice, seeing as she was still in the hoodie and joggers he'd seen her in an hour ago. Her hair—which had grown out just past her ears these days—was messily being held back by a large headband.

It actually reminded him of the Dominique he knew from years prior, because lately she'd actually been dressing better. That is to say, her clothes had started to fit instead of swallowing her whole. She'd been taking a bit more time on her appearance, which everyone assumed had something to do with Davies, though she vehemently denied it.

He stared at her for a minute, wondering if he should say something. It would be weird if he didn't, but it also might be weird if he did. They were on decent terms again, at least when it came to Quidditch. They'd started talking out on the pitch and during practices, and quick comments about wind speeds on their brooms had turned into casual conversations about homework and Louis. She'd lightened up considerably towards him, even going so far as to stop needling his decisions and actually backing him on some. The atmosphere at practice had returned to being normal and fun, though he still hadn't seen that transfer into much of an off pitch camaraderie.

But he'd also noticed that she spent a lot of time on her own, just as she was now. She'd never made it a secret that Louis and Sarah's relationship annoyed her, and she often would just get up and walk away when she didn't want to deal with them. Jack could sympathize with that. When Louis wasn't pouring over his N.E.W.T. work, he and Sarah were practically up each other's arses. It was actually hard to get Louis, or Sarah, on their own much these days, which only bothered Jack occasionally. It seemed to bother Dominique much more.

He decided to say something. What did he have to lose? He tentatively approached where she sat, ready to present this as a Transfiguration matter. Maybe she had her essay done and could offer him some pointers.

"Hey," he said, casually reaching out to knock on the table.

She looked up at him briefly, before immediately returning to her work. "Hey."

"What are you working on?"

"Transfiguration," she said without enthusiasm. "Did you finish your essay?"

He shook his head. "Haven't even started. Louis said he'd loan me his, but when I went to find him—"

"Let me guess. He was tongue deep in Sarah?"

Jack smiled a little. "No. He was actually sitting with Jane and your sister and working on N.E.W.T.s." He made a face. "I decided not to go ask."

Now she grinned a little. "You would have been wasting your time anyway," she said, and when Jack looked at her curiously, she slid another sheet of parchment toward him that had been lying on the table. When he looked at it, he recognized Louis' handwriting. "I already got to him."

"Well, shit," he muttered. "You stole my plan."

She shrugged. "He's my clever brother, so I get dibs on him. But, I'm done with what I need, so you can have it."

Jack reached out to pick up Louis' essay and absently scan it. "Yeah, but how many times can Louis' essay be combed through before Ivanson realizes we've all just been pulling his ideas?"

"I do well enough changing all of his information around to make it sound as though it's me," Dominique offered. "I just make sure to leave any of the finer details out, focus on the main points only, and then attempt to explain them in my own way."

"Seems we have that in common," Jack said. "Both experts on making Louis' work sound like our own."

"Shame there's not a N.E.W.T. on that," she joked. "We'd both get Os." She let her gaze linger on him. "You don't have to stand there. You can sit."

He thought about that for a second as he glanced around the library. He supposed he could. It was better than sitting on his own, especially if she was actually being receptive to him. He might as well...

And while things were quiet and a bit forced at first, they did gradually begin to make small talk. It was mostly at Louis and Sarah's expense, that or their essay—and eventually Quidditch.

While he didn't leave the library that night thinking much had changed between them, he was surprised to find that from that night forward, whether in the library or the common room, they sort of started naturally gravitating toward each other to do their homework together. It became sort of a habit, especially if she was aggravated with her brother.

He'd be sitting, working on some subject, and look up to find her throwing her bag down on his table without a word. Before he knew what was happening, she'd be asking him what he'd answered on their Charms revision, or if they could work together on Transfiguration. Even when he wasn't working, sometimes she'd turn up with a Quidditch magazine to show him or the Daily Prophet Sport section to discuss the highlights of the previous days matches, just like the old days.

"You can't move your Seeker there," she'd told him one Saturday afternoon as they played a game of tabletop Quidditch in the common room.

"Yes, I can," Jack said, pointing out to her the trajectory his piece took to make that happen. "See, it passed through the open space, I missed the Bludger—"

"You can't move diagonally," she insisted. "Only Chasers can—"

"You told me last time I could."

"No, I didn't—"

"Hey you two," came Louis' voice as he suddenly sat down between them, glancing over their game in a bored sort of way. "What's up? This _again_?"

Jack ignored Louis. "Yes, you did," he protested. "You told me that if the Snitch was present I can travel diagonally."

"Only while the Snitch is present, which it's not."

"It's right there!" he said, gesturing to the board, where the little golden piece had made its appearance seconds before. Naturally it had vanished now, but that was because Dominique had been purposely talking while it had appeared, which now seemed strategically planned.

"Uh, look again," she said smugly, rolling her dice and then moving her Chasers along accordingly.

"You did that on purpose," Jack said to her, now reaching for the dice himself to make his next move. "I see your plan. Attempt to distract me. Dirty play."

She laughed, but at the same time, Louis asked. "Are you two planning on playing this all afternoon?"

Dominique looked up at her brother then, as if just realizing he was there. "What do you care? Did you lose Sarah somehow? Do your body parts suddenly need a rest from being permanently connected to hers? Someone finally sever the two of you apart?"

Jack looked away to hide his snicker at that, but Louis was too busy glowering at his sister to notice anyway. "She went to have a nap. She's had a headache all day."

"Oh, and now you've decided to remember the rest of us?" she said rather pointedly before returning her gaze to the game. It was then that Jack's Keeper deflected her Chaser's attempt on his rings, which made her swear loudly as Jack laughed.

Louis wasn't even attempting to hide his annoyance with his sister, but instead muttered, "How much longer do you think this will last?"

"The way my Keeper's playing, who can tell?" Jack said proudly, smiling down at his little enchanted, plastic player who was flying around their rings like a bird protecting its nest. "I wish I could somehow make him real and suit up for Gryffindor."

"To replace Kenley?" Dominique quipped. "Because I would support that."

"Don't start," he said, flashing her a look.

She laughed. "Well, forget your Keeper because my Seeker has something to say about this," she said, moving her Seeker several spots across the board.

He smiled at her. "Your Seeker's is all talk and no action. It's as if you've gone and picked up Giggleswick."

"Ohhhh, you're an arsehole," she said, though it made them both laugh.

"I was thinking of heading down to the grounds," Louis cut in, focusing his efforts on Jack. "Since the weather's broken and it's actually warming up. Just get out of the castle for a bit. You want to come?"

Jack looked up at him. It wasn't that he didn't want to hang out with him—he did—but he was sort of in the middle of something right now. He glanced over at Dominique, who was staring at him rather fixedly. It was almost as if she'd expected him to call their game off and tread after Louis. She was bracing herself.

"I'm going to stay here with Nic," he said, gesturing to the game. "Because, you know…"

"Oh. Yeah, fine," Louis said, though he seemed a bit surprised. In true Louis fashion though, he acted as if that was no big deal and claimed he'd be down on the grounds if they changed their minds. He'd turned to leave without much else to say, and Jack looked back at Dominique.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, watching as his Chasers were all sort of flying in random circles since he'd been taking so long to roll the dice.

"Ummm," Dominique said, looking over the board as if she'd lost track of what was happening as well. He got the impression that she had distinctly assumed he was going to blow the rest of their game off; she now seemed to be trying to regain a grip on everything. He probably should be using that to his advantage to beat her.

But he wasn't in a rush. He was actually rather enjoying himself sitting here, playing the game, trash talking to each other, having a laugh. It wasn't that he didn't want to hang out with Louis, but somewhere along the way, he'd started to see Dominique as one of his better friends as well.

It had just sort of...happened.

* * *

**#26: Stupid Parts**

"He's not my boyfriend," Dominique told Jack one nice April afternoon after they'd both arrived early to practice.

Jack smirked. He had been trying to get in a workout before things while she was there to meet Davies after Ravenclaw finished their current practice. He had just jokingly asked if she was playing the Quidditch widow role and watching her 'boyfriend' at practice.

"I wish people would stop calling him that," she added.

Jack laughed to himself as he ran up the stairs again. He knew she hated anyone calling him that, frequently claiming that she didn't see Davies as much as people assumed she did; that it wasn't a real relationship.

It wasn't that Jack didn't believe her—because except for during those lulls between and after practices, Davies really wasn't ever around—but it was funnier this way. It really did wind her up.

"You two haven't been meeting up as much lately," he said as he came running back down the stairs. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No," she said immediately, watching as he passed her. "It's that N.E.W.T.s are getting closer. He's been busy."

"Aw, do you miss him?" Jack teased, trying to increase his speed.

"Fuck off," she muttered, looking out across the pitch, where Ravenclaw looked to be finishing up. "I don't know how many times I have to explain to people that it's purely physical."

"I don't think anyone wants to believe you because who'd want a physical relationship with Davies?" Jack muttered, avoiding Dominique's leg, that—upon that comment—was now trying to trip him as he passed.

"No one asked you," she mumbled, her hair fluttering in the breeze as he turned to do yet another rep. "And don't be jealous."

"Of what?"

"Of a causal, detached, sexual relationship," she said. "Just because you're incapable of a commitment free relationship…"

He'd stopped running then to turn and look at her. "Wait. Stop. You two have had sex, then?"

She nodded, as if that should have been obvious.

He stared at her, finding that surprising for so many reasons. One, because it was Davies and...gross. Why?

Two, because Dominique hadn't even so much as kissed anyone a few months ago, and now she was sleeping with them?

And three, because...already? He'd assumed most people waited, since that's what everyone around here did. He'd gone months with Jane and the timing still hadn't been right. Dominique and Davies had barely been together...or whatever they were.

"Wow," he said.

"Why, 'wow'?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, and he wasn't exactly sure where he was going with this. "I guess I was just thinking about how long it took me and Jane to—"

"Yeah, well you two went about a hundred years," she muttered.

"First of all, six months," he corrected. "Second of all, that's not at all unusual."

She shrugged. "I guess it's not. It seems most people around here seem to put in this waiting period, but why? Why when you know you want to do it? Why wait?"

"Because not everyone is always ready right away," he said. "You want to get to know someone before you decided to—"

"But why?" she asked. "Why do so many people put sex on this pedestal that is this 'be all, end all'? Sex is just something to do. A fun something if you get it right, but so many people put so much pressure on it to make or break their relationships—or even to define them as people. It's stupid. It's naked fun that feels good. Just look at it like that and life would be a lot easier."

He laughed a little. "Not everyone thinks like that."

"Obviously," she said, looking up at him where he was currently standing above her on a high step. "But do you see where I'm coming from?"

"I mean…" He shrugged. "I think it should be special between two people. It's a connection thing."

She shook her head. "It's a pleasure thing. Be clever about it; be safe about and enjoy the moment. By making it into more, you're putting too much pressure on yourself. It's dumb."

He laughed again, a little surprised by what he was hearing. Most of the girls around here did not share that view.

She threw him a look. "Your way is always why there's so much drama. Don't tell me you wouldn't appreciate a girl who wanted truly, no-strings attached sex?

"I don't know. I don't think that exists."

"Of course it does," she said. "I'm sitting right here and telling you it does. I'm that girl." She pointed at herself. "And that's exactly what you need right now after getting out of a long relationship. A girl like me who just wants to enjoy the fun parts without any of stupid parts."

"Stupid parts?"

"Emotions and commitment," she said with a wave of her hand. "Blah, blah, blah…"

He raised his eyebrow at her. "I like those parts."

"You would…" she said with a sigh. "I'm telling you, it's a lot easier on this end. You should try it."

"And I'm telling you," he said. "you can get a lot more out of a relationship than just sex. You should try it." He glanced toward the pitch, where the Ravenclaw team was collecting their stuff to leave. "Maybe not with Davies, though." He pointed toward him, "Speaking of your boyfriend, he's done..."

Dominique sneered at him, but quickly hopped up with a purpose as she too noticed the Ravenclaws finishing up. She immediately turned her sneer into a smarmy sort of smirk as she turned to leave. "Suit yourself, but I'm off to enjoy the fun parts of the opposite sex without any of the rubbish."

"It's Davies," he countered. "He and rubbish go hand in hand."

She'd flipped him off as she strolled away, and he found himself shaking his head in disbelief before he returned to running up and down the stands to finish his run.

Several minutes later, once Jack had wrapped up his workout and was now cooling down on the grass, Tommy had arrived and was meandering onto the pitch for practice. He walked directly over to where Jack was sitting and tossed his broom and bat to the ground beside him.

"Am I the first one here?" he asked.

Jack looked up at him. "Sort of. Though, Nic's around here," he waved his hand aimlessly, "somewhere."

Tommy rolled his eyes as Jack pulled himself to his feet. "Should have figured. I did pass most of the Ravenclaws on my way down." He paused to add, "Not Davies, though."

"Not Davies, though," Jack muttered right back at him.

More time passed. Kenley, Devon, Alex, and Eatins all showed up and began readying themselves to practice. Dominique was still missing at six o' clock, which wasn't unusual, though it was frustrating. Jack enjoyed the two of them getting along lately, so he never made a big deal of it, but her recent need to be five sometimes ten—minutes late wasn't something the rest of the team could ignore. Kenley especially could quickly be counted on to start mumbling to Tommy how she better have to fly laps because any of them would have to.

"We're starting with or without her," Jack called, before telling Kenley and Chasers to start warming up each other. He swatted Tommy in the chest and told him to come with him and retrieve the equipment from storage.

They made their way to the equipment room, searching for and lugging out the trunk of balls that the Ravenclaw had lazily put back. Jack dragged it out into the tunnel and charmed it to make it easier to transport, as he and Tommy started talking about their upcoming final match of the season. It was against Slytherin, and for Gryffindor it was a nothing to lose match. They'd messed up the start of the season far too much to come back and attempt a run at the Quidditch Cup, but they could put a damper on Slytherin's attempts. Jack was telling Tommy this as they rounded the corner; though they were met by a sight neither had counted on.

Dominique and Davies were snogging, rather heavily, against the stone wall.

Tommy faked a retching noise and mumbled, "Didn't need to see that," but Jack found himself oddly frozen to the spot. It was as if he'd walked in on something private—which he obviously had—but it wasn't as if people didn't snog freely all over the school all the time. It never usually bothered him.

But this...this was weird. Why was this weird? He'd heard about it enough; he'd taken the mickey out on her loads of times for it. Why was he so surprised to actually see it? Apparently hearing about it was one thing, but seeing it was...it was…

He couldn't look at this anymore.

He pushed the levitating trunk toward Tommy and proceeded to walk over to where the pair were still snogging. Dominique had enough hair these days for a little ponytail, and he gave it a quick tug as he passed. He could hear them both make noises of confusion and surprise as Dominique's face pulled off Davies'.

Jack turned to face them as they broke apart, though never stopped his stride and continued walking backwards. When he caught the evil eye from Dominique, he shrugged at her. "You're late for practice."

"What the fuck?" Davies said, throwing Jack a look that said that move hadn't been cool.

"Sorry," he said, though it didn't sound the least bit apologetic. "I'm going to have to steal her from you." He smirked. "Time's up."

Davies rolled his eyes and looked none too pleased. Dominique didn't look amused herself, but it was clear she was exiting the situation, mumbling a quiet, "See you later," to Davies.

"And don't think you're not flying laps," Tommy said to her as the three of them started heading toward the pitch opening. "Hope he was worth it."

"You can both fuck right off," she mumbled, and Jack noticed that her face was flushing a surprising shade of scarlet.

* * *

**#27: The Nile**

Completely smashed.

That was Jack's goal at the start of Alex Wood's end of school party. It was the third party that week he'd attended, having also been to Devon Whimbley's and some random Hufflepuff kid that lived in Flynn and Sarah's neighborhood. He seemed to be making the rounds.

It was the same at every one. The people who'd finished school for good were all cutting loose and enjoying being able to not only put an exhausting year of exam preparation behind them, but also their entire Hogwarts career. There were generally tears and hugs when people got too drunk, but Jack avoided all of that and was really only there because there was nothing better to do. Flynn was the one who seemed keen to hit as many as possible.

"Alex is a laugh, so his party should be good," Flynn had told Jack before they'd entered Alex's nice looking house. His dad had apparently played professional Quidditch for a bit, though now worked on the coaching staff for the Magpies. Alex apparently hadn't inherited whatever elevated his dad to the next level in Quidditch, because he'd always only been a rather fair Chaser. He'd actually admitted to Jack once that he only played to make his dad—who took it all very seriously—happy.

"I just want to get pissed," Jack muttered, feeling oddly low that night. He wasn't much in the mood to socialize, but Flynn had dragged him out. He didn't understand why, because Flynn would probably vanish five minute after they'd arrived to talk to, literally, everyone else, but Jack had come anyway. He told himself it was better than sitting around all evening at home and watching the telly.

If he were being honest, he was quite happy to put his sixth-year behind him given that most of it had been complete shit. He'd squashed most the drama: he and Dominique settled their issues and were actually really good friends now; and he and Jane, while not friends, could offer polite greetings in passing instead of awkwardly avoiding each other. Quidditch had sucked—Ravenclaw had beaten Slytherin in the final cup match—but it was over and he was determined to make his seventh year season better. It had to be better; there was too much riding on it.

Otherwise, his exams went well enough, he was personally crushing his Beating goals—which was good since the Quidditch Trials were at the end of the summer and he needed to do well there—and he was in the best shape he'd ever been in since he'd devoted the last six months to constant training. It had been a year of change, more than he'd have liked, but it was over now. He could put it behind him and make the most of this summer.

The party was in full swing when they'd entered, and it seemed Alex had invited most of the school—or at least most anyone above fifth-year. Jack immediately noticed Tommy and his crew of former fifth-years standing near the large fireplace. He caught his eye and nodded to him, to which Tommy nodded back. He had his arm around a pretty Ravenclaw girl whose name Jack couldn't remember, but they looked cozy. That only meant one thing—he and Kenley were probably rowing about something.

Sure enough, on the other side of the room, Kenley stood talking with her group of friends. While she wasn't outwardly looking or doing anything to grab Tommy's attention, it was clear she's stationed herself directly in his line of sight. When she saw Jack, however, her face lit up like a lantern and she immediately rushed over to hug him.

"I was just talking about you," she said with her pretty smile and her long eyelashes fluttering.

"Oh, yeah?" Jack asked, watching as she hugged Flynn hello as well.

"All good things, of course!" she said, still smiling. The distinct aura of a girl who's had a couple of drinks already was now becoming more apparent. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Not that there's anything bad I could say."

Jack couldn't help but grin—she had a way about her that could pull a grin out of anyone—and he caught Flynn from just behind her throwing him a very, " _She's into you"_ smirk. Jack shook him off, just as Kenley's best friend and roommate, Adaline, pulled her over to whisper something in her ear. They both started giggling.

"I'm going to get something to drink," Jack said, stepping away. "I'll talk to you in a wee bit."

"You better," Kenley said, though she rounded back on her friend within seconds; her arms wrapped around his in a very "friends forever" sort of way that a lot of these girls tended to do when they were drinking.

Flynn trailed behind him as they made their way through the front room in search of alcohol. "You're a fucking idiot if you don't—"

"Riiiiight," Jack said, cutting him off with a nod. He'd heard this same bloody lecture from Flynn twenty-five times before. "I get it."

"And you can't even claim Tommy's in the way, because he's over with his tongue down Leisel Parker's throat!"

Jack stopped to glance back and see if that were true, but he couldn't make Tommy out in the crowd any longer. He instead turned toward the back of the house, where he did find a large container full of drinks that someone had charmed to stay chilled. He picked one up and handed it to Flynn before immediately helping himself to one.

"I mean, even if not Kenley because you've got some weird hang up about not pursuing that," Flynn continued to say, "despite her practically throwing herself at you—then at least try something with someone!" He gestured around the room. "There's loads of girls here."

"I see that," he said, just as his eyes drifted over to where he spotted Jane currently near the stairs, talking to Victoire and a couple of others. He sighed and looked away, noticing that there was a door open and leading out into the back garden. He nudged Flynn to head in that direction and the pair were met by a cool night and a garden full of people. Among them, he did spot Louis seated in a deck chair—Sarah was in his lap.

Flynn must have seen them too, since he was already walking toward them. Louis called out happily to the pair of them, asking where they'd been and to drag up chairs. After a few gentle smacks of shoulders and hands in greeting, Flynn used his wand to charm and wrangle up two other chairs.

The time passed quickly. One, because Jack found himself pounding beers in quick succession, and two because he and Louis had started taking the piss on Flynn at his incessant attempts to always have his nose in every bloody conversation happening around them. It was something they'd always found rather hilarious, and tonight was no different.

It was fun while it lasted, until Sarah started whispering something in Louis' ear that made him smile and kiss her. It grew heated very quickly, and Jack realized that wasn't ending any time soon. He'd be getting a show if stuck around much longer.

He silently groaned. They were still so bloody smitten on each other that they still—after close to a year of this—were snogging each other's face off as though it was the first few weeks. And while yes, it could be annoying as fuck, Jack would be lying if he didn't say he wasn't rather jealous. He missed snogging. He missed holding someone; running his hands affectionately over their body—and also the less affectionate, more provocative rubbing that came with more privacy. But it wasn't even the just sexy stuff he missed; he just missed the closeness of having someone. That's what he was most jealous of.

He stood up. Between the practical foreplay beside him, Flynn chatting up a group of Hufflepuff girls, and some seventh-year Slytherin nearby now crying to her friends because it was all over, he needed another beer. He needed to be more smashed than he currently was.

People greeted and waved at him as he passed, some offering hugs of hello or handshakes as he stopped to have a word or two. He saw his ex, Holly, who was nothing but nice as she said hello with her long time boyfriend, some bloke called Kevin who was a Hufflepuff Beater. They'd gotten together not long after she and Jack had broken up, so they'd been at it for a while.

His relationship with Holly seemed to have happened another lifetime ago. She did comment that he looked really good and must have been working out. It had been pleasant enough, and she and her boy had left hand-in-hand after a quick catch-up, which caused Jack yet another small pang of jealousy. He wasn't jealous of anyone—just of all the happy couples springing up around him.

When he finally made it inside, he was practically tackled from behind by someone small and light who'd grabbed his shoulders. When he'd swung around to look—awkwardly, since the person still had their arms firmly on him—he was surprised to see Dominique laughing as though something was seriously funny.

"Hello, mate!" she said cheerfully, her cheeks rosy and slightly flushed. He'd never seen Dominique drunk or really drinking before. He and Louis had snuck around and done it a couple of times since the previous summer, but outside of that one time at the World Cup, she'd never been around. Even at the World Cup, she'd only had maybe one drink.

"Hey," he said, a smirk playing on his face. "Where'd you come from?"

"Uhhh…." She didn't seem to understand the question. "My house? Where else would I have come from?"

"I just meant I haven't seen you around tonight." He stepped toward where the beers were and she followed. "I was out sitting with Louis and Sarah, and I'd have figured I would have seen you out there."

She waved him off. "We came together, but I lost those two the second we got here. Who needs to watch them snog all night?" She shook her head quickly. "Not me."

"They were actually pretty good until about five minutes ago," Jack offered, reaching down to grab a beer. He automatically offered it to her first, which she took and thanked him before he reached for another.

"I actually need two," she said to him. "If you don't mind."

He handed her the second with a curious look before retreating for a third. "Look at you. Going strong."

"They're not both for me," she said, holding the bottles by their necks with one hand while using her free hand to run her hand through her hair. It had been nearly a year since she cut it all off, and while it was only just in between her chin and shoulders now, it was almost strange to see it down or around her face. She generally wore it pulled back, but she'd chosen to wear it down tonight. He immediately thought about how she should do it more often because it looked nice.

"The other one is Henry's."

Oh. Right. Him.

Even with everything that had happened last year, without question, the strangest thing to come out of sixth year was that relationship; more so the fact that it was still happening. How was it still happening? He now wondered if they had plans to keep it up over the summer since Davies had finished school. He wasn't about to ask.

"Sweet of you to get your boyfriend a beer," Jack teased, already masking his grin as he sipped on his bottle.

"He's not my boyfriend," she said sharply.

"Oh, come off it," he said, the alcohol surging through his system made him feel less filtered. "You've been fucking around for six months. That's a proper relationship if I've ever seen one."

"Then you must not have ever seen one," she countered.

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," he said.

"What the...?" She stared at him. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Denial. De-nial. The Nile…? You know what—?" he said, realizing at once that he was actually trying to explain one of his father's favorite dumb jokes. "Never mind."

"What are you on about Egypt for?" Dominique asked, throwing him a funny look. "I think you've had too much to drink."

"I don't know about that," he said with a sigh as he then gulped down half of his beer.

"Well, I'm going to go deliver this to Henry," she said, holding up the beer, "but you be a good lad and don't Apparate anywhere if you've had too much." She then reached out to give his upper arm a light and playful punch. As soon as she'd done it however, she seemed surprised by something and did it again. Then a third time.

He glanced down at where she'd hit him before looking back at her. "What are you doing?"

"It's quite hard," she said, again sounding completely surprised by this. "Your arm. You went and got muscular."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he shrugged. "I guess."

She hummed a little, blinked in a half drunk sort of way, and then straightened up. "Right, well. I'll see you."

With that, she turned away and crossed the room, her blonde hair swishing in her wake. He watched her until she completely vanished into the crowd, then he finished his beer, grabbed another, and walked back outside. He desperately needed to find something fun to do or someone fun to talk to.

He joined in on that drinking game that Devon wrangled him into, downing two more beers in the process, but winning at least one round where the rules weren't altogether clear to him. He was just picking up playing cards and drinking whenever someone told him he needed to. It was fun while it lasted, but he wasn't sure he could go a third beer on it seeing as he was already feeling the heavy effects of his previous drinking.

He glanced up and saw Jane and Victoire passing by, the former of the two throwing him a look that he took to be disapproving. He raised an eyebrow; not seeing why what he did was any of her business. She couldn't judge him. Shouldn't she be having a good time herself? Why wasn't she more drunk? Didn't she just finish school?

That made him want to immediately want to fetch another beer, though as he walked toward the house, he caught sight of Dominique and Davies sitting nearby and actually looking...chummy. They were sitting toward each other; talking and carrying on like normal people...like a couple. She was smiling and tucking her hair behind her ears in a very coquettish way; she may as well just start biting her lip and fluttering her eyelashes. What was she on about that he wasn't her boyfriend? What the fuck was this, then?

He looked away and continued on toward the house. Everyone really was coupled up. Everyone could piss right off.

He'd made it nearly to where the beers were when he ran into Kenley and Adaline again, who were chatting in low whispers and watching something across the room. The second he made eye contact with them—having almost ran smack into Adaline—Kenley was already smiling her trademark adorable smile.

"Jack!" she said happily, coming to hug him. "Where have you been?"

"Around," he said, forcing a smile despite his poor mood because she smelled really good. "Where have you been?"

"Around," she said in the same way he had. "Bored, really. I was just telling Addy how I should leave."

"Yeah, it is boring," Jack offered, turning to grab a beer. "But there's booze."

"Oh, I've had far too much," she said once he offered her one, and he could tell by the way she wobbled a bit on the spot that she had. "Any more and I'll just be a mess. And not the fun kind, but the dreadful kind."

"I'm still working on becoming the fun kind," he said as he swigged from his beer and smiled. "Almost there."

"I think you're already there," she said with a smile. "You're always fun."

Oh, Kenley. She really was very pretty. She had nice blonde hair too, though it was honey colored and reached down to the middle of her back and very warm looking green eyes. The way she was smiling at him currently seemed very much on purpose, which he had to assume was because Kenley was the type who always knew what she was doing. Maybe Flynn was onto something. Why was he trying so hard to ignore this when she was throwing him a lot of signals that said she was interested?

He smiled back at her and it was only then that he noticed her friend had vanished and it was only the two of them standing there. She'd turned to face him full on, as if he had all of her attention. "Big plans this summer?"

He'd shaken his head, told her he was hopefully going to get to see his brother's band at some point and that he had the Quidditch Trails come August, but other than that, nothing really.

"The Quidditch Trails will probably be loads of fun," Kenley said, having moved closer. "I hear it's mad there."

"Here's hoping," Jack muttered. "I could use some madness in my life right now."

"Could you?" she asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

He snorted a laugh. "After this year? Yeah."

She nodded sympathetically, even going so far as to reach out and gently brush his arm. "You have had a really shit year."

"I'm glad it's over."

She smiled and held his gaze, her green eyes feeling as though they were burrowing into his soul. He had a feeling he knew what was going to happen next. People didn't look at each other like this unless they had plans to—

Sure enough, she leaned in and kissed him right then, and his immediate reaction was that she tasted like strawberries. Not actual strawberries, but some sort of strawberry flavoring from lip balm or something. He didn't mind and let himself decide to let this happen. Her lips pressed into his as she curled his hands around her neck and pulled him closer; he let himself lean back against the wall. She was a good kisser and clearly knew what she was doing, so he let his mouth play against hers until the two of them were full on snogging for who knew how long. He didn't care. It felt good...he was going to keep doing it.

They seemed to be at it for a while before Adaline reappeared to tell her Kenley she had to leave—which meant Kenley apparently did as well. It caused Kenley to look back at Jack with a sort of apologetic grin, "Seems I need to go."

"OK," Jack said, blinking and feeling the world now coming back into focus. He felt really drunk.

"That was fun," Kenley offered, reaching up and kissing him on the cheek. "See you soon. And if I don't, have a good holiday."

"Right…" Jack said, watching as she gave him a quick wave and turned toward her friend. Adaline was smirking at her, but also shaking her head in an exasperated way as she immediately began whispering something rather urgently. The pair walked off without so much as a glance back.

Jack found himself laughing a little. Had that just happened?

When he got his bearings, he walked back outside; he felt a bit taller. He felt good. He felt accomplished, though he had no idea why. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, the bleary drunkenness of the evening hitting him quite hard now. If he kept going, he'd probably have to sleep here in Alex's floor, though if he let up, he could at least Floo over to Flynn's and pass out at his house. His dad never cared how drunk they all turned up.

He was contemplating going to find Flynn to see what his plan was when he suddenly noticed Jane staring at him from straight across the garden. She was actually scowling at him, which was rather startling. As soon as their eyes met, she was suddenly now walking over.

"Is something wrong-?" he began to ask as she approached.

"You're an arsehole," she said point blank.

He stared at her. Had she just called him a…? She didn't swear. "Sorry?"

"You're an arsehole who's completely full of it," she said, her voice louder. "I knew it."

"Whit," said Victoire, who had appeared and was trying to tug her away. "You're drunk." She looked at Jack. "She's had a loooot to drink."

Jack ignored Victoire. "You knew what?" he asked Jane.

"I knew you had feelings for her all along," she said loudly, gesturing to nothing. "You always denied it."

"I have no idea what you're even talking about," Jack said, though now people were turning to watch. Flynn had somehow emerged from somewhere and was tentatively watching everything unfold with rapt attention.

"You told me time and time again that you didn't have any feelings for her," Jane shouted, and Jack realized then by her tone that she was very drunk. "You got angry with me for telling people that you and Kenley—"

"Whit…" Victoire said again, her voice pleading. "Stop."

"Because I never did anything with her!" Jack yelled back.

"You just had your tongue down her throat!"

"Well, yeah, but that's _now_ , not _then_ ," he argued. "And so what? We broke up six months ago! Why do you even care?"

More people were stopping to watch now. He immediately noticed Dominique's blonde head among the crowd as she'd come up and stood beside her sister. She was eyeing him in a curious, almost concerned sort of way. She seemed to not understand what was happening.

"You're a liar," Jane yelled, tears welling in her eyes as she turned and finally relented as Victoire pulled her away.

"What did I lie about?" Jack called after her. "We haven't even spoken in months!" He lowered his voice, "What the hell...?"

He seemed to be shouting on deaf ears at this point—well, at least when it came to Jane he was because Victoire had ushered her inside. Everyone else had heard him quite clearly. Most had quickly broken off to go back to their own business once they realized nothing more was happening, but Dominique was still standing there staring at him.

"What did you do?" she asked him.

"Fuck if I know," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Whit's angry," came Flynn, who'd appeared at their side just then, "Because she saw him and Kenley having quite the snog back in the house."

Dominique's eyes went wide for a moment and she looked back at Jack. She looked like she wanted to laugh. "You didn't…?"

"Yes, I did," Jack said matter-of-factly, now finding himself staring straight into her very, very, very blue eyes. "And I don't see why that's a big deal!"

Dominique didn't do anything more than half sort of smirk at him before sighing very heavily. She reached out and gave him a light pat on his back, which gave him a quick start. "You should probably call it a night, mate. You've had a lot to drink."

He'd wanted to tell her that she couldn't tell him what to do, but at the exact moment, Davies had appeared by her side and touched her on her elbow to draw her attention away. Jack found himself glaring at him. He really fucking hated that kid and the way he just walked over here thinking he could pull her away. Didn't he see they were having a conversation?

"Seriously, Jack, go get some sleep," Dominique said to him, throwing him a lazy smile before then addressing Flynn. "Get him somewhere safe, will you?"

Flynn gave her a mock salute and may have done something more, but Jack was too busy watching her and Davies walk off to notice. In the next moment, however, Flynn had positioned himself entirely in Jack's line of sight and blocking out everything else; his expression highly amused. "You just got yelled at."

"Fuck off," he said, though he immediately let his tone soften. "I still have no idea what just happened. What did I do?"

Flynn shrugged. "Who cares? You got to snog a fit girl. Who gives a shit about the rest?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This one was looong. They're all pretty long now. It takes me a bit longer to give them that pre-post once over before I post. Thanks for reading and for leaving a review if you have! Next we're headed into that sixth-year summer and the Quidditch Trials. :)


	6. Summer and the Quidditch Trials

**The Quidditch Trails**

* * *

**#28: Apples and Pretzels**

"Are you two almost finished?" called Louis' voice into the late afternoon air as he stood in the center of the clearing near his house. Jack had only just heard him as he whipped past on his broom, attempting to accelerate to his top speed. He quickly pulled up to slow himself, noticing that Dominique had already landed over near her brother. He followed suit.

She was panting and sweating, the summer heat feeling particularly sweltering today. Jack was practically soaked through his t-shirt, which he used to wipe his brow as he approached the two Weasleys. He could just make out Louis saying, "I'm headed over to Sarah's now. Are you two coming now or later?"

Dominique glanced at Jack. They'd been out here for hours, which is how they'd spent most of their time lately in an attempt to ready themselves for the upcoming Quidditch Trails. Some days were particularly rough, what with having spent the previous evenings drinking and staying up late, but it had to be done. A good performance at the Quidditch Trials meant so many open doors when it came to a future in Quidditch. A poor performance could seriously put a damper on any attempts.

Jack had a routine every day that he had to get through while he was training this summer. He woke and ran, lifted weights, and worked himself out thoroughly. Then, after a break for lunch, he would Apparate over to the Weasleys in the afternoon where he and Dominique would work on actual Quidditch training. As of this afternoon in particular, he was only about 80% complete with his Quidditch workout when Louis turned up. He could tell Dominique was exhausted and ready to call it an early day; especially since the rest of their evening was free for drinking and not doing much of anything over in Godric's Hollow with Sarah, Flynn, and whomever they found hanging around.

"I'm almost done," Jack said, his chest heaving as he looked at Dominique. "I'm going to finish and I'll come after. You can head off with Louis, though. I'll clean up."

Louis was now looking at his sister, who was clearly torn between her exhaustion and desire to cut out a half an hour early. She knew it was important to finish, and sighed rather loudly. "I'm going to stay, too."

"Alright," Louis said with a shrug before rounding back on Jack. "If you get there and we're not at Sarah's, we're probably at Flynn's."

Jack nodded to say he understood, and Louis turned to leave toward his house. Dominique stood there, squinting up into the sunshine as beads of sweat trailed down her face. She looked exhausted, but Jack reached out and swatted her on the arm. "Thirty more minutes."

"It's hotter than the bloody sun today" she muttered, reaching to retrieve her broom from the ground.

"Thirty more minutes," he repeated, taking to the air to finish what he'd started.

Thirty turned into forty when all was said and done, because he always tried to push himself that extra last bit. He'd landed to find Dominique lying on the ground looking completely depleted, her arm shielding her face from the sun. "I'm so tired."

"Quitter," he joked, tapping her with his bat to alert her of his presence.

"You can fuck right off," she said, lowering her arm to look at him. "Four hours, Jack. We've been at it for four hours."

"Well, you were at it for three hours and fifty minutes," he corrected.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't," he said as he offered a hand to help her up, which she took and let him pull. "And you'll thank me when you've got a killer ranking at the Trails. I feel I should remind you that Quidditch matches can go on for four hours, even more, so you should—"

She immediately silenced him with a look. "Are you trying to lecture me about...?" She stopped and shook her head, turning to set off toward the house. "I've created a monster."

He laughed as he followed her up the well-worn path that winded through the woods and out upon the vast space where the sea now became visible, and her house beyond that. Their plan was to get fresh water, eat something, change, and Apparate over to Godric's Hollow all within the next fifteen to twenty minutes. Now that he had a day of training under his belt, he felt good. He felt ready to go find all of his friends and pass the rest of the afternoon away.

Dominique had taken his broom and bat and put it away with hers. He wandered into the kitchen and helped himself to water, seeing as he was here so often he usually simply made himself at home. He stopped short of helping himself to food, which he still usually let Louis or Dominique initiate first.

She'd done just that upon entering the kitchen, grabbing her own water, some pretzels, and gesturing to a fruit bowl on the counter. She'd summoned some apples and charmed a knife and a cutting board over to begin cutting them before asking, "You want an apple?"

He nodded as he leaned against the counter beside where she stood watching the apple being chopped. "I didn't need it cut. I'd have eaten it whole."

"Too late now," she said, handing him a single piece that had been sliced off. "I don't like whole apples."

He made a face as he popped the entire slice in his mouth. "Bu' you'll eat dem sliced?"

She nodded.

"Vuts da diff'rents?" he asked.

"They taste different," she said, sipping on her water.

He swallowed. "No, they don't."

"Yes, they do," she said matter-of-factly, opening up the pretzels and popping a few in her mouth as the apples looked to be finishing up. "It's two different fruits as far as I'm concerned."

"You're mental." He laughed, helping himself to the pretzel bag she was holding. As he did, she purposely flung a pretzel at his nearby face. She chuckled as it bounced off his forehead, which only prompted him to launch one back at her before adding, "You're wasting food."

She laughed now, throwing an entire handful at him without hesitation. It broke his heart a bit to watch all those perfectly good little pretzels crash onto the floor. If they were anywhere else rather than the kitchen he knew her mother took great care in keeping tidy, he would have gone to all out pretzel war with her, but instead he begrudged her a smile, as if to say, " _You win_." It prompted her to plaster a satisfied looking grin across her face as she picked up an apple slice and bit into it.

He continued to smile at her but rolled his eyes, turning then to see her mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen and staring back and forth between the two of them. She'd had traces of a smile across her face, but as soon as Jack caught her eye, her smile instantly became pronounced and she quickly announced herself by asking what they were doing.

"'Aving a snak," Dominique said with her mouth full of apples. A small piece flew out of her mouth as she spoke; Jack watched it hit the floor. Dominique didn't seem to care, though her mother had closed her eyes in a slightly mortified sort of way.

"Smaller bites, Dominique," she said with a sigh. "The apples aren't going anywhere."

Dominique shrugged, gesturing for Jack to help himself while she fielded questions from her mother about how training was going and whether they had plans to join Louis. They explained that they were headed out as soon as they'd gotten something to eat, and having destroyed the entire bag of pretzels, four apples between them, and sandwiches that Fleur insisted they have before they left, they finally got around to changing and gathering their things to leave.

Jack thanked Fleur for the food and Dominique came bounding down the stairs with her hair flying behind her. She smiled and said, "And we're off" before looking back at Jack. "You ready?"

He nodded, threw Fleur a smile and again thanked her for everything. She told them to have fun before the pair disappeared out the front door, exchanged quick looks to acknowledge they were Apparating then, and within seconds they'd disappeared from the spot.

They'd reappeared in Godric's Hollow and went first to Sarah's house, which was empty. Flynn's house down the street was equally as deserted of their friends, but they had run into his brother, Flyer, who'd mentioned that they'd all gone down by the lake with a group of people he couldn't recall. Jack vaguely knew where this lake in question was, but Dominique seemed confident that she knew the way. The pair of them then pressed on since this was a bit of a walk from where they currently were.

"I wonder who all will be there?" Dominique asked out of nowhere after they'd walked for ten minutes and the lake finally came into their sights. "Who else lives here that we know?"

"Liam Pepperdine from Hufflepuff," Jack said as he thought about the question. "And then that one Slytherin Chaser. She's over at Flynn's sometimes. Robbie Andrews, of course."

Dominique made a face. She wasn't particularly fond of Sarah's ex.

Otherwise, I'm not sure," Jack said. "So many people always turn up to Flynn's, but I don't know if they live around here or not."

She nodded as she listened, her eyes clearly seeing the same small group of people that Jack currently did who were sitting by the lakeshore. He could tell, even from where he was standing, that the goofy one jumping around and acting the fool was Flynn. "I'm just bracing myself for who I might run into. There are certain people I'd like to use this summer to avoid."

"Who?"

"The usual fare," she muttered. "Giggles, for one."

Jack laughed a little. "Maybe don't date his best mate, then."

She didn't look at him, but she rolled her eyes very obviously.

"Speaking of people I wouldn't mind avoiding all summer," Jack continued. "Is Davies turning up?"

She threw him a tired look. "I don't invite him places. We don't hang out socially, we just...you know." She turned to look forward once more. "He thinks my friends are annoying."

"The feeling is mutual."

"I mean, I think his friends are annoying," she countered.

"Because they are."

"Well, maybe you are?" she said, again looking over at him as they finally reached the end of the pavement that now led to a sloping green lawn. "Louis and Sarah together definitely can be, and Flynn...well, I barely consider him a friend, but he definitely is."

"No, but see, but I'm delightful," Jack joked, prompting a funny sort of smile from Dominique. He matched it and they fell into a quiet silence as they drew nearer to the lake. He'd been about to ask if she thought that was Liam hanging out with Louis, Sarah, and Flynn by the shade tree when Dominique suddenly spoke up again.

"I actually haven't seen much of Davies lately. It's been awhile."

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to feign sympathy, celebrate, or ask her if she was coming to her senses, so he instead kept his mouth shut.

They'd joined their friends and the group of them gathered around the lake until well into the evening. People came and went, and Jack felt oddly recognized while he was there. Perhaps recognized was the wrong word since he'd known most of these people for years; naturally they recognized him. Perhaps the better word would be—and he hated to say it—but popular. He and his friends were known by these random fourth, fifth, and sixth-years that turned up to hang around, even though Jack couldn't claim to know many of them.

Then again, he'd always had his head in the sand a bit when it came to faces and names. But there was something different now—he could sense it. He was part of the older, soon to be seventh-year group and that commanded a certain level of strange admiration. Jack remembered having the same sort of admiration for the older kids when he was right below that coveted "last year" spot.

There was something about being in that group now that just felt oddly top-of-the-world. This was a flash of a moment that would be gone before he knew it; it was best to enjoy it for as long as he could.

"Are you excited about the Trials?" asked a Ravenclaw girl, who seemed to be attempting to make conversation with him after her friends were off daring Flynn to swim into the lake fully clothed.

"I am," he answered politely. "Yeah, it should be good."

"I've heard it's crazy there," she said, her eyes never leaving his face. "People get into all sorts of trouble. The fun kind, not...you know, the bad kind."

He shrugged and laughed a little. "Yeah, I've heard that. But I've never been much for trouble. I'm boring."

She laughed too, and he immediately recognized that kind of laugh. It was a laugh that was just a wee bit harder than it should have been given the comment not being particularly funny. She either had an ulterior motive for making him feel funnier...or a very random sense of humor.

"You're not boring," she said.

Jack smirked to himself. My, how the tables have turned, despite him not believing he was any less boring now than he was years ago.

He excused himself on the pretense of looking for someone, and eventually found himself watching Flynn. By now, Flynn was fairly wrecked, running fully-clothed in knee-deep water, chasing around that pack of sixth-year girls who were laughing rather madly. Several of the others who remained on the shore were cheering Flynn on. It was all very chaotic.

When he tore his attention away after a minute, he glanced around and found Dominique sitting up against a shade tree near her brother and Sarah. The latter two were snuggled up next to each other and seemed very much in their own little world. Neither they nor Dominique were paying any attention to the other.

Jack walked over and sat down beside Dominique, figuring she could use some company as he leaned himself comfortably against the same tree she was. She was slumped down slightly, looking sleepy, and presumably a little drunk. She'd been drinking fairly steadily since they'd arrived earlier, so it made sense that it was all starting to catch up to her. Jack was surprised he wasn't feeling more like that, but for whatever reason, he felt mostly fine. Maybe he just needed to try harder.

"Flynn's a berk," Dominique said at random, watching now as Flynn grabbed one of the younger girls around the waist.

"Yes, yes he is," said Jack, not looking at her as he examined his forearm and wiping off dirt that he'd picked up from somewhere.

"What is he even trying to…?" She gestured to the display by the lake. "What is that?" She shook her head. "Boys are idiots."

"Yes, yes we are," said Jack in the exact same tone as before.

She turned to look at him, the gears clearly now turning in her head. "But why?"

"Why are we idiots?" he asked, though that led him to shrug. "No real answer. It's a case by case thing. We each have our reasons."

She made a snort of a noise as she looked away; she was clearly annoyed by something. "I'm over the whole lot of you."

Jack hummed a little and wondered if she was talking about something—or rather, _someone_ in particular. He cleared his throat. "Sorry to hear that. Do you need me to apologize for mankind?"

She turned and looked back at him. Again, he could practically see her thoughts forming in her glassy eyes, which were now burrowing into his. She really did have a way of looking through him that made him feel rather transfixed. He was actually a bit afraid to look away, even though he probably should. A part of him sort of liked it.

"No," she finally said as she turned away to absently watch Flynn again. "What good would it do when you're just one of billions. You don't speak for all of them."

"I don't."

"You definitely don't speak for the fuckheads."

"I try not to. After all, they've got their own designated speakers, and they'll let you know who they are quick enough."

She laughed a little at that, and Jack did too. He wasn't even sure what was happening in this conversation—what were they even talking about?—but she seemed keen to have a bit of a shit on _someone_ , so he'd hear her out.

"You're a good one," she said, using her shoulder to knock gently into his, though not immediately retreating away. "You always have been. I'm not talking about you."

"Who are you talking about then?" he asked, feeling as though he was asking a question he already knew the answer to. A sudden jolt went through him as he anticipated the answer. She was talking about Davies. How could she not be? He'd sensed lately she'd been especially frustrated with him, and if that was the case, why didn't she end it? Burn that relationship to the ground. Move on. There were...other people out there.

"No one," she said quietly as she pulled her legs up to hug them; her chin now resting on her knees. "It's nothing."

 _Someone's nothing,_ he wanted to tell her, but as usual he instead turned the other way and began breaking a twig he'd found beside him into smaller pieces. He sighed loudly.

"Yeah, I'm tired too," Dominique said, mistaking his sigh of frustration for exhaustion. "Before you came and sat down, I was close to falling asleep."

"Yeah, I might call it a night early," he said as he leaned his head lazily back onto the tree's trunk. "Got an early workout I'd like to get done."

She let out a laugh and also let her head thump dully back onto the tree's trunk at the same time. "You never stop. "

"I need to be ready for the Trials."

"Jack, I don't think anyone is more ready than you," she offered as she took that moment to stretch her legs and slump even lower against the tree so that her head was level with his shoulder. It forced her to look up at him with those piercing blue eyes that once again left him rather transfixed. He was developing a really bad habit lately of getting lost in them when she looked at him like this.

"I…" He blinked, forgetting what she'd even said. "What?"

"I don't think anyone is more prepared for the Trials than you are," she said as she pulled her gaze away.

"Oh. I...I don't know…" he muttered, wanting more than anything for her to turn back so that he could have her undivided attention once more.

"You are," she said with another laugh. Even that—that simple, innocuous sounding laugh—gave him pause for a moment. He found himself questioning so much of what she said and did lately.

He sighed again, wondering to himself if these were starting to become a full fledged...feelings. He wasn't an idiot, he'd been sensing that things were becoming less platonic with each of these passing summer days. Days where they spent hours training together, laughing, talking, throwing pretzels, innocuous flirting. It was less noticeable when they were sober, but they both tended to let their guards down when they were drinking and, for him, it was getting stronger. It was getting harder to ignore.

Still, it was possible this was all just a drunken misunderstanding. He could admit finding her attractive—she was—and he could admit to enjoying being around her—they were friends, after all. Maybe the alcohol just somehow intensified what he was attracted to onto Dominique. He'd been single for awhile now, and he was keen on some female contact. He easily spent most of his time with her, so maybe she was just the person who happened to be on the receiving end of things. Maybe it wasn't her, per se, that he fancied, but rather the idea of her—a cool, pretty girl who he enjoyed spending time with and who shared common interests. She could easily just be a placeholder.

Dominique sighed once more and—completely out of nowhere—rested her head on Jack's shoulder, mumbling something about, "I'm so tired." When he glanced down, he saw she was already dozing with her eyes shut.

He felt an intense and rather insane desire to not move so much as a muscle for fear she might lift her head. If he did that, she might move away. He didn't want her to do that.

Alright, nevermind then. She clearly wasn't just a placeholder.

* * *

**#29: Under a Pillow**

"You do the defensive positions, I'll do the offense," Dominique said to Jack as she plopped down on her bed in the room the two were now sharing for the week. "We'll meet in the middle and exchange once we're done."

Jack nodded, grabbing his workbook and sitting directly opposite of her on his own bed. They'd arrived at the Quidditch Trials that morning, and it had been non-stop since they'd walked through the gates of the compound. Orientations, meetings, loads of lectures, but no actual Quidditch so far since that didn't start until the following day.

They'd learned they had quite a bit of book work and assignments to complete while they were here; he and Dominique had decided to tackle that on their first evening instead of heading out with most of the others to drink and party. It was clear early on who was taking this seriously and who was honestly here for the experience.

They'd arrived here with the rest of their seventh-year Quidditch peers—two people from each house this year, which kept things neat and organized. Jack had originally been assigned to room with Mike Ellison of Hufflepuff, which he would have been fine with; Mike, however, had asked whether it would be alright for him to room with his longtime girlfriend, Ellibit Collins, who just so happened to be Dominique's roommate.

He didn't mind the switch. He and Dominique had spent countless nights sharing floor space at Sarah or Flynn's house after they'd all had too much to drink. Even at her own house, while they never shared a room, there had been instances where they—along with Louis—would fall off to sleep in their sitting room after listening to a long-running Quidditch match. They'd slept in the same space before plenty of times over the years...just never in a space this small; where their beds were practically within arms reach of each other.

It wasn't something he was trying much to think about. He'd come to terms with the fact that he'd developed a small—very small, so small, baby sized, really—sort of crush on Dominique. He'd ignored it for the most part, still attempting to convince himself that he was watching her so intently on her broom was because he observing her skills, or that he was so irritated by Davies' name because he was a fucking knob, or that he found himself gloomy when she had to miss a training session because he really had wanted to work out.

But deep down, he was watching her fly even when she wasn't doing anything significant. He couldn't shake the disappointed feeling he had when she wasn't around for training, even when he still managed to do it all on his own. And he had to restrain himself from celebrating the day he heard she and Davies had called it quits.

He'd been in Flynn's back garden, sitting around his outdoor table with him and Sarah while splitting a bottle of Firewhiskey that the three of them had purchased. They'd been playing some children's card guessing game that Flynn had dredged up from somewhere in his house as they waited for Louis and Dominique to arrive; Sarah checking the clock every so often and wondering aloud why they were running late. Jack didn't say it, but he had the same question.

"I have," Sarah began to read off the card, "The head of an eagle, the body of a horse, and I'm covered in feathers—"

"Hippogriff," Flynn said lamely, throwing back his Firewhiskey and draining his glass. "These are too easy."

"It's a game for four to eight year-olds," Jack said, picking up the card box to read the details. "What do you expect?"

"Yeah, perhaps you should clean out your cupboards more often," Sarah said, tossing the cards back onto the table. "Your sister's twelve now, so the whole lot of you aged out of this game years ago."

Flynn shrugged as if he couldn't be bothered, though a distraction came from the sound of a loud cracking noise near the garden fence. All three of them turned to look, noticing that it was Louis who was now walking rather hurriedly toward them.

Sarah called out a cheerful sounding, "Finally!" while Flynn and Jack offered more neutral sounding greetings. Louis approached the table and before anyone could ask where he'd been all evening, his expression turned urgent. "So, Nic and Davies are done."

Jack looked up. Both he and Sarah said, "Really?" at the exact same time. While Sarah's reaction was more curious, Jack's turned positively delighted. He was doing all he could to keep his smile reined in, though he did manage to mutter, "It's about time."

"Yeah," Louis said, just as another loud crack carried over from where Louis had arrived moments earlier. All eyes glanced over to see Dominique having just arrived, but they were quickly distracted by Louis quickly adding, "She was just over at his house a bit ago, and he ended it."

"Wait," Jack said, all good naturedness in his face slipping right off as he met Louis' eyes. " _He_ ended it?"

" _He_ ended it," Louis repeated, his voice low. "And she's in a fucking mood, so…" His eyes flashed as if to say, " _beware_."

"Oh no," Sarah whispered as the group of them all watched rather apprehensively as Dominique approached. She cast a cold look around the table, which was deadly silent, before turning that icy stare onto her brother.

"You told them."

He avoided her eyes, but mumbled, "I..."

"Save it," Dominique said, throwing herself in the empty fourth chair before proclaiming quite loudly, "No, I don't want to fucking talk about it, so don't ask. None of you. Understood?"

There were slow nods and quiet murmurs of agreement. Flynn was pouring her a drink without asking if she wanted one, but she took it and began sipping it rather slowly. No one spoke again until Flynn randomly picked up the kids' cards from the table and began attempting to get the lot of them to guess that he was describing a thestral. It was the first time none of them had an answer, seeing as none of them—outside of Flynn—had ever seen one.

That had been a month ago, and Dominique's mood and demeanor had shifted considerably since the split. She hadn't wanted to practice or train much after it happened, and when she finally did decide to get back out there, it was only for about an hour at a time. Jack had actually taken to training entirely on his own for the remainder of the summer; he was always genuinely surprised to see her turn up when she did.

She had moments of normal, where he would never have known she was upset or dealing with a breakup; then five minutes later, she would be moody and sulky once more. She was much quieter at their get-togethers at Flynn and Sarah's, and when she drank, her sullen, moodiness became exacerbated. She was clearly dealing with something, but she still refused to talk about it with anyone; claiming time and time again that she was fine.

His crush on her had curtailed mostly because of all of this. They had lost something once she'd retreated into her shell; though she'd lost it with everyone, not just him. She was more reserved about their friendship now—about all of her friendships. She'd shut down quite a bit, and it became clear that while she could scream from the rooftops that she wasn't bothered by this thing with Davies, she was truly full of shit. She was going through some stuff, and while he was happy to listen and be her friend, anything more was too much to even consider. She had to sort this out.

Even earlier that day while the pair had been walking to the Trails' commissary for dinner, Jack had attempted to force the conversation to her dealing with her feelings for Davies, and she'd started crying and shouting at him. He hadn't meant to make her cry—he really had just wanted to talk to her—but she had, and she'd needed a few minutes to collect herself.

But now, hours later, she'd come around and was back to normal as they sat in their dorm room getting a start on their book work. She had already pulled out a quill to begin scribbling in answers in her book as if she already knew everything to write. Jack, meanwhile, proceeded to reach into his pockets and pull out a crumpled piece of parchment that Dominique had given him earlier that evening.

On it was the room number of some cute French girls he'd talked to at orientation. He hadn't managed to score this little piece of parchment on his own; Dominique had been the one who'd acquired it for him, which only further cemented to him why his feelings for her had vanished nearly as quickly as they'd come. She'd never felt the same way; she'd never considered him as anything more than her friend and Quidditch teammate—which was fine. He'd been dumb to have considered otherwise.

But it was strange because he could have sworn there had been moments between the two of them—lingering looks and shared laughs—that could have gone either way. There were times she would randomly touch him in completely innocent and innocuous ways—ways that if Sarah or any other girl did it, he wouldn't think anything of it. But because it was Dominique, and she wasn't a toucher, it had made him take notice. Even the way they talked sometimes when it was just the two of them—when she let her guard down and just talked to him without all the snark and bark—made him wonder if things could be different. Then again, maybe he'd just been seeing what he wanted to see.

It had been a weird couple of weeks when he'd had feelings for her, but things were comfortable and cool between them now. They were great friends—the sort of friends who helped each other score a second meeting with the girl he'd been chatting up earlier. That was fine. That was great. It certainly made life a lot less complicated. He'd be lying if he hadn't thought about how falling for his best friend's sister would be difficult; how falling for his Quidditch teammate would be difficult. How falling for his friend would be difficult...

"Seriously?" she said, suddenly cutting through his thoughts. When he looked up, Dominique was staring at him. He was still holding the crumpled parchment in his hand and he'd been vacantly staring at it. "You're focusing on that instead of all the work we need to get done?"

He immediately shoved the parchment deep in his pocket. "I wasn't…"

"Daydream about girls on your own time," she mumbled, having already returned to her book and scribbling an answer down. "We need to get this done."

"Right," he said, straightening up and reaching out for a quill; fully prepared now to cover the defensive parts of their work. Still, he let his gaze linger on her for a moment as she tucked her shoulder length hair behind her ears as she paused to read something over.

He may have figured out that fancying her was a complete lost cause, but it didn't change the fact that sometimes when he looked at her, she was distractingly pretty. He sort of wondered why it had taken him so long to seriously notice.

He forced himself to work; both of them initially quiet as they filled in answer after answer about the various positions and what they brought to the pitch. After a while, the silence was cut by Dominique standing from her bed, walking over to the bag of chocolate biscuits he'd gone and acquired after dinner, and helping herself to two.

He didn't mind—he'd got them for the both of them, even if she had sworn up and down she didn't want any. But it made him smirk when he saw he'd been right to assume she'd want some.

She seemed to have needed a bit of a break then because she was standing there eating the biscuits and stretching her back. She reached up high and bent back slightly, briefly exposing her rather taut looking stomach which he'd be lying if he didn't say he copped a glance at. Probably not the best idea to room with someone who still managed to elicit a tingling sort of sensation at the sight of exposed body parts.

But he didn't fancy her, though…No. He'd moved past proper feelings. That wasn't an option...Still, it was going to be a long week sharing a room with that stomach and that face, and...all the other parts.

"Have you finished yet?" she asked suddenly, snapping him back to reality.

He looked down at his book work. He'd done all of the Beater work rather quickly, but he'd gotten lazy on the Keeper stuff and hadn't finished. "Are you?"

She nodded. He shouldn't have been surprised. She obviously would have finished in no time. It was then that she walked over and grabbed her book from her bed, tossed it onto his bed, and then returned it for yet another biscuit.

"Thought you didn't want any of those?" he said, watching her eat as he attempted to remember the four basic Keeper positions for when they were posed at the rings.

"They're really good," she said with a funny smile.

"I know, that's why I got them."

She shrugged. "You said I could have some."

"Have as many as you want," he said, attempting once again to focus on bloody Keepers positions. There was the central position...

"I'll save you a few," she said, turning then to find and rummage through her duffle bag in search of something. She suddenly called over her shoulder, "Is there any way I can convince you to turn around and shut your eyes?"

"Sorry?"

"I want to change, and I really don't want to have to walk all the way down to the bathroom, so...if you could…?" She made a gesture to him with her finger to spin around.

Was she...serious? He inhaled slowly as he looked away. For the love of God...Someone was testing him.

He laid down, picking up his pillow and placing it on top of his face for good measure. "Yeah, I can. Just let me know when you're done."

So many images running through his brain, and none of them having to do with Keepers and their positions. Leave it to him to have a pretty girl half dressed and partially exposed five feet away from him and he was stuck here under a bloody pillow.

"Done," she said rather quickly. He pulled the pillow off and glanced over to her, noticing that she'd put on pajama bottoms and an old red Gryffindor Quidditch shirt that he remembered their team getting in their third year. He had no idea where his was anymore, but he knew it no longer fit him and it hadn't in years. Hers apparently still did; it actually looked to fit her better now than it had back then. It had been rather large on her back in the day, but it fit her perfectly now. It was clinging to certain parts…

She'd grabbed the bag of biscuits and tossed it at him, which he caught in a startled manner. She was swatting at his legs to move them, which were still spread out over his bed from where he'd lied down to cover his eyes. Once he did, she sat down at the end of his bed and picked her workbook back up. "What part are you on? We can knock the rest of this out."

"Uhhhh," he said, searching for his book, which had slipped out of his lap during all of the shuffling to hide under a pillow. "Keepers. I'd just started…"

She sighed, it sounded aggravated, as she flipped through the book. "What have you been doing if you just started?"

"The Beater stuff."

"It took you that long to do the Beater pages?" she asked, looking up at him. "I managed to do Seeker and Chaser—"

"Alright," he said, throwing her a look that said to save her lecture. "Sorry, I've been a bit distracted."

"Right, I saw," she said as she began scribbling something in her book. "By those French girls. I should have waited to give you their room numbers—"

"No," he said immediately. "It had nothing to do with them. It's just...it's been a long day." He reached over and started pulling out biscuits to eat. "And I'm tired, but I need to finish most of this because I want to get up early to go for a run—"

"How early is early?" she asked, watching him dig around inside the bag of biscuits.

"Early. Half past five. Six at the latest."

He watched her pull a rather surprised face. "Well, if you want to get up that early and also finish most of this," she gestured in between the books, "then maybe you should actually do some work."

He lazily flung a biscuit at her. "Brilliant suggestion."

"I'm only saying," she said, though she'd caught the biscuit he'd thrown with some impressive reflexes. They both smiled in surprise at that, and she proceeded to hold it up rather triumphantly before proceeding to bite off the end of it. "Ha!"

He found himself still smiling at her as he watched her place her quill back down on her workbook to return to work, already saying something about the Keeper's main four positions that he wasn't paying attention to.

Maybe in another lifetime...

* * *

**#30: Awful View**

If Jack were being honest, he was playing insanely well at the Trails. The first few days of training workouts had been easy—well, easy was the wrong word because they were grueling and exhausting, but they weren't difficult. He had to run a lot, which he already did. He had to lift and push heavy weighted objects up and down the pitch, which wasn't anything he wasn't capable of. He had to push himself to fly as fast as he could, which he'd been working on all summer. He had to do—what felt like—a million press-ups, chin-ups, sit-ups, but again...all things he did regularly.

Even the specific tasks, such as using balls and Bludgers to hit speeding moving targets with accuracy and precision, he'd excelled at in a way that even surprised him. That had earned him extra attention because he'd managed to do it nearly perfectly with his left-hand, and better than most of the mid-to-lower tiered Beaters with his right. His hand switching and impressive back swing had earned him praise from all of his coaches, and from what he could tell, he was easily a top five Beater amongst the group of them.

But he wanted to be top four, because the top four would make it into the Premier match. At the start of camp, he'd assumed he wouldn't have been skilled enough to make it to the last and final match, but the more he saw of his competition, the more he realized that he was just as good as some of the best ones out there. Outside of this scary looking Durmstrang bloke who could probably kill a man with his bare hands, he was as good as everyone else. He just needed the ranking to go along with it.

Given all the feedback he'd been getting from his coaches, he was likely to get something high. This first day of matches would cement whether that high meant an eight, a nine, or...maybe even a ten. His accuracy coach, a bloke called Fernwich, claimed that he was the most accurate one in the lot of them, and he seemed to be hinting that he could be looking at a perfect score from him specifically.

And he had managed all of this despite the drama that he'd let swirl around him the previous night. He'd been well-behaved on the whole—not going out, finishing his bookwork, eating well, waking early to fit in all his workouts—but there had been that one night that he'd fucked up a bit. A night he'd truly take back if he had the choice given the domino sort of effect it's had since.

Zara Zabini had convinced him and Dominique to go to one of the rowdier dorms with her and Erin Tanner. She'd apparently set up a meeting with Vanessa, the cute French girl he met his first day and whose room number he'd acquired. He'd only had one run in with her since that initial meeting, and after talking to her for a few minutes, he'd been perfectly charmed by her adorable smile and sweet demeanor. She had these warm brown eyes and brown hair that curled in a way that she had to have charmed to look so neat. She honestly just gave off the energy of a complete sweetheart, which he really liked.

He could practically hear Flynn in his ear, like a little devil sitting on his shoulder, telling him that he needed to make something of it. Make a move; take her back to your room and see what happens. But she didn't seem like the type of girl who'd be particularly interested in that sort of thing, which probably would have frustrated Flynn more. "Then find one that does! You're not here to find a girlfriend! You're here for fun! Have meaningless sex and move on!"

But he was keen on her, which made looking at other girls less interesting. Outside of Dominique walking around their room in a sports bra—which caught his attention every single bloody time—he hadn't really noticed any of the other girls. And since Dominique didn't count, he was pretty content to let his Quidditch Trials crush remain on the sweet French girl with a lovely smile.

That was why he'd agreed to Zara's invitation over to C dorm to check out the action over there. He would get to see Vanessa, hopefully be charming enough enough that she'd want to snog him, and then he'd be able to come home with a story for everyone to say that he had gone out and enjoyed the other aspects of the Quidditch Trials. It seemed like a win.

Only it wasn't a win. It somehow went completely, horribly wrong, and even now—twenty-four hours after the fact—he still wasn't sure how any of it had actually happened. He could remember being at the party and running into people he knew, like Durrin. He could remember finding Vanessa, who was as adorable as ever, but accompanied by her very clingy friend, Chloe. He could remember them all laughing, and chatting, and drinking—both girls touching his arm in that flirty way girls often did to make sure you knew they had your attention. He could remember losing Dominique, and Zara, and everyone else so that it was only him and the French girls; he could remember watching as Vanessa and Chloe both started to drink more than they probably should.

He was certainly well on his way to being properly pissed, but a summer spent with his crew of friends had made him build a fairly decent tolerance to those first few drinks. Vanessa, it seemed, did not have that tolerance; after maybe two beers, she was practically knocked off her feet. Her friend fared a wee bit better and still seemed to have her wits about her, telling Jack that Vanessa truly was a lightweight who didn't drink much at all.

"I really should be getting her to bed," Chloe told him, supporting Vanessa as she wobbled and giggled beside her, barely standing up straight.

"Do you need help getting her back?" Jack offered.

"You're so sweet," Chloe said, smiling. "You don't mind?"

He shook his head and walked over to let Vanessa put her arms around him and let him support her weight. She immediately put her head down upon his shoulder as if ready to fall asleep, but giggled and mumbled a quick, "You're really cute."

He laughed a little and glanced back at Chloe, as if encouraging her to lead the way. She did just that as they exited the building, and while he attempted to walk and support Vanessa, she was tripping all over herself. Had he not been steadying her, she'd have fallen to the ground four or five times already, so he opted to just pick up and carry her.

Chloe was giggling herself as they walked. "You're quite strong."

"She's not heavy," he said, which was absolutely true. If she was seven stone, he'd be shocked. But Chloe insisted on telling him how carrying Vanessa all the way back to their dorm was quite the feat. She seemed really impressed; he decided he was going to let her be.

"This is us," she said once they'd reached their dorm room and opened the door to let them in. "Vanessa's bed is on the right."

He went and laid Vanessa, who was now passed out in his arms, on her bed. He stood and stretched his back out after carrying her, he realized that was that. He couldn't see why he would walk all the way back to the party since it was getting late; he may as well call it a night.

"Thanks again," Chloe said, still standing by the door and holding it open. "I would have never been able to get her back here on my own."

He smiled. "Not a problem." He stepped forward to pass her toward the exit. "Well, I'm going to get some sleep. I'll see you—"

"Oh," Chloe said, looking disappointed. "You are?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, I don't really feel like walking all the way back there when my room's just downstairs. And, I have an early morning tomorrow."

She still seemed disappointed, but started to nod. "Right. I suppose I'll walk back out there on my own."

He stared at her. Well, now he felt bad. He really shouldn't be letting her walk by herself in the dark. He could hear his mother's voice scolding him in his head for letting her wander off. "Do you want me to walk you back over there?"

She laughed and shook her head as they both stepped into the corridor and she snapped the door shut behind her. "No, it's fine. I can manage."

"I really don't mind."

She smiled at him, reaching out to run her hard up and down his arm. "You really are the sweetest, but I promise I'm fine."

They made eye contact at that, and he didn't immediately know what to do or think. She was looking at him very intently, as if she was studying his face for something. He was looking at her wondering if he was reading this situation wrong in his half-drunk haze, because he could have sworn that...

"I'll walk with you to your room," she offered. "It's on the way out."

"Ok," he said plainly, as the two of them went to the stairwell and proceeded to walk down to the first level. They passed the loo and made it all the way to his door before he stopped and gestured to it, pulling out his wand as he did so. "My stop."

She nodded, her face now curious as he opened his door and pushed it open just a crack. "What does your room look like?"

"Like a room," he offered, smirking as he pushed the door the rest of the way open to show it off. She took the opportunity to step over the threshold to investigate, and he had to wonder why she cared. There was nothing in there that hadn't been in hers. It probably looked identical to her room.

"You've got an awful view as well," she said, briefly glancing at the brick wall he had outside of his window before rounding on him. "Lucky us."

"Yeah, lucky," he said, watching as she closed the small gap between them, her eyes still on his. If he didn't know any better—and he may not, his head felt fuzzy—she was playing at something. That something may very well be that she'd wanted to get him alone. And, honestly, he didn't think he was going to complain. Because who would complain when a pretty girl looked at you like that? As though she was on a mission and that mission somehow involved him.

"I never do this," she said, her voice dropping to a lower, sultry volume. "I guess the alcohol's made me brave, but…" She reached up tugged playfully on the front of his t-shirt. "You're really handsome."

He stared at her, though his gaze slowly went to her lips because that's where she was clearly attempting to get him to look with the now coquettish way she was biting her bottom one.

"And, I've been wondering…" She never finished that sentence. She'd leaned in and kissed him at that, her lips gently pressing against his as if testing the waters to see how he reacted. He now had two choices, to step back and ask her to leave; or to say fuck it, kiss her back, and live life the way Flynn was always telling him to for once.

Leave or stay? Leave or stay? They'd been kissing for a good ten seconds now, so if he was planning on stopping this, he needed to do it now. But why should he? She was fit, she wanted him, he had nothing else to do, and she was now pressing a very impressive, round set of breasts up against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She'd obviously taken his lack of objection as consent to push further.

Fuck it. When at the Quidditch Trials…

He kissed her back, using his arm to slam the door shut behind them and then immediately ramping up everything about what they were doing. He grabbed her tightly, kissed her more fiercely, and let her begin tugging at his clothes with such fervor that he wasn't sure he'd even had anyone undress him so quickly in his life. She'd had his shirt off in seconds, and worked him out of his trousers even faster. She pushed him rather aggressively back into a sitting position onto his bed, his trousers still around his ankles, and proceeded to pull the dress she'd been wearing over her head in one swift movement. It was like a show and she wanted him to watch, because in the next moment, she was unhooking her bra to expose...

He exhaled. Holy shit. Tits. She had...wow. They were...wow.

The most insane part of this was that none of this was the gentle, sweet, romantic stuff he'd been accustomed to with his exes. This was raw and purely lust driven and he had no idea what was actually happening, but he needed it to keep happening. He really needed it to keep happening.

She sat down and straddled his lap; they were kissing again. A lot of kissing. Kissing of mouths, of necks, of any and all exposed skin. She'd taken his hands and put them right on her breasts and he ran with that. The last time he'd gotten a tit in his hand was ages ago, and she hadn't been nearly as inviting for him to play with them as this one was.

Everything was happening so fast, almost blurred, but he couldn't have stopped if he tried. She adjusted herself and started kissing down the length of his body, reaching the edge of his pants and barely hesitating before reaching right inside and grabbing him with the sort of fervor that only he'd ever touched himself with.

Jane had always been really gentle; timid even. Even when she'd tried to get him off, he'd usually have to reach down there and help get there. This girl, however, knew what she was doing. She was playing with it, stroking it, working it so quickly that between the motion of the act and her breasts bouncing up and down, he was not far off from…

And then it was in her mouth. He inhaled sharply, swallowing as he let the absolutely amazing feeling of her taking him in and using her tongue rather expertly overcome him. Yeah, this was...this was...He took a deep, sharp breath. Holy shit. Was this what a proper blowjob was supposed to feel like? He was going to come any…

"I'm going to…" he managed to groan out as he body seized up, every muscle inside of him tensed, and a feeling of complete fucking euphoria washed over him as she easily got the result she was aiming for. He'd barely had a second to come down or enjoy it, before the mood shifted entirely.

The door to the room suddenly swung open, letting in an uncomfortable amount of light from the corridor. Jack found himself frozen, while the girl—he couldn't remember her name...what was wrong with him?—stumbled backwards a bit, yelled, "Get out!" and slammed the door shut in an instant. It suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Shit. That had to have been Dominique. Who else would it have been? She'd been returning for the night and had just gotten an eye full of...Shit, what had she seen? He glanced down at his very exposed cock before looking at the girl—Chloe! He remembered!—crouching on the floor, looking a bit startled as she wiped her mouth.

He immediately pulled at the edge of his pants—the part she'd pulled down—back up. He should probably put that away.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"My roommate."

"You're rooming with a _girl_?"

"Yeah, you met her earlier."

"The pretty blonde one who knows French?" she asked, pulling herself back up onto the bed to sit beside him. She was looking put out at this realization.

He nodded, his mind entirely still on Dominique and what she'd just walked in on. Fuck, she was going to let him have it. He was surprised she wasn't already letting him have it. He was a little confused as to why she wasn't currently pounding on the door, yelling for Chloe to get out of her room, and then tearing him a new arsehole for letting her walk in on that. Why wasn't she doing that?

Chloe still seemed confused, and it was more than strange to be watching this mostly naked girl sitting beside him apparently finding herself in a conundrum. "She's not some sort of girlfriend, is she? The two of you aren't…?"

"No, she's my best friend," he said, now kicking himself a little for letting this happen. Yeah, it had felt good, but he really wished she hadn't seen that.

She scoffed a little, as if she found that funny. Why he didn't know, but she was now looking back at him as if willing to forgive and forget the whole thing, her hand reaching out to run it up and down his chest. "Well, whatever. We don't have to let that ruin what we were doing."

As far as he was concerned the mood was dead. He felt bad about getting his and not being willing to return the favor, but he was decidedly not in a sexy sort of mood anymore. He was sobering up quickly, and he had to assume that Dominique would be back any minute. He didn't think he could handle her walking in on them twice.

"I…" he said, trying not to sound rude. "I…"

"I'll let you fuck me," she said, almost as causally as if she were offering him a snack or directions. "If you were worried that..."

Well then. He was learning about the many other sides of women tonight. He tried with all of his might to imagine any girl he knew or had ever fancied saying that to him and he couldn't come up with a single instance where that would have happened. This was officially madness. He would never hear the end of it when he told Flynn he turned this down. Hell, Louis may give him shit, too.

"I'm…" He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry, but...Look, my roommate is probably going to be back really soon. She's not exactly a patient person, and if you're still here she's going to have something to say about it. And she's going to curse me into a thousand pieces." He took a deep breath when he realized how true that statement was.

"Oh," said Chloe, looking suddenly bashful and immediately searching for her clothes to cover up with. "I get it."

She dressed in silence and Jack pulled up the trousers he still had around his ankles, but he couldn't help but feel like a complete arsehole for essentially kicking her out after she'd blown him. But, what else could he do? Dominique really would be back soon, she really would kill him if he kept this up, and he honestly wasn't interested in messing around with this girl anymore. He really wasn't entirely sure why he let himself get into the situation in the first place. He'd been keen on her friend...

Chloe had shown herself out with a lame sounding, "See you," as she shut the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Jack let himself fall onto his bed with a heavy thud; it creaked loudly beneath him. He groaned and started rubbing his eyes, already dreading the awkward conversation he and Dominique were inevitably going to have.

* * *

**#31: Nine**

Jack reached out his hand to greet his Beating partner for his upcoming match—the third and final one he had for the day. It was the last chance he had to prove himself before rankings came out later, and while he'd done terrific in all of his previous matches, he needed to end strong. Strong meant a top ranking and a high finish amongst his Beating group.

"How's it going?" asked the bloke, who was on the smaller side for a Beater, as he shook Jack's hand. Jack knew him from working with him earlier in the week, but his ability to remember names truly was shit, so he did nothing more than greet him with a casual, "Doing well," before asking him the same question.

They ran through the typical five minute strategy session they were forced to do in order to make sense of each other out on the pitch—Jack, being left-handed, always advocated for taking to the left side of the pitch, which wasn't usually met with much resistance. They gave the Chasers on the opposite team a quick once over, offering suggestions and concerns; then they did the same with the Seeker.

"I saw you talking to their Seeker," said the other Beater, who'd reintroduced himself as Caio. "You know her?"

Jack glanced over to where he'd left Dominique stretching a few minutes prior. She was currently talking to a pair of Durmstrang Beaters and most likely going over strategy. Just their luck, they'd finally gotten scheduled in the same match, but they were on opposing teams. Worse yet, he'd gotten Giggleswick on his team instead.

"We go to school together," Jack said slowly. "So, yeah. I know her."

"Anything I should know that'll help take her out?"

Jack knew he could crack Dominique's entire Seeking style wide open right now—her quirks, her nuances, her strengths, her weaknesses. He knew them all and he knew them well. But he didn't feel like admitting anything, and instead said, "She's good. Just...keep an eye on her."

The fallout after the infamous "walk-in" incident two days prior had been so drastically different from what Jack had anticipated, that he wasn't sure what exactly had happened. He was certain Dominique was going to take issue with him bringing a girl back to their shared space without warning her—setting her up to walk-in—but she hadn't yelled at all. She hadn't so much as thrown him a snide comment or snarky look. She actually didn't care.

She'd found it funny, especially once he'd told her the entire story of how he'd ended up with Chloe instead of Vanessa. She'd taken the piss at him for it, but there was absolutely no anger. He didn't understand why since him occupying their room that night had inevitably been the reason she'd fallen into a—as she called it—"complete Quidditch tailspin."

She hadn't returned to their room on that fateful night, but Jack didn't realize that until the following morning; not until he'd awoken and saw that her bed was untouched. He'd thought for a moment that she'd come and left early, but everything was sitting on her bed in the exact way it had been the day before. She'd stayed out all night.

He tried not to think much of it at first, knowing she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but on his run later that morning, it hit him that she didn't exactly have other friends here; at least not anyone she was close enough to crash in their room with. That wasn't to say she couldn't have figured something out—and probably did—but he was now having images of her sleeping on a bench somewhere.

Her things remained untouched when he'd returned after his workout, and again when he made a point to swing back by the dorm after breakfast to check. Her broom was still learning up against the corner of the room, and he knew she wasn't doing anything without that. Now he was starting to get nervous. Training started in fifteen minutes; she should have been back by now.

He ran into the Slytherin girls in the corridor on his way out, asking them immediately if they'd seen her. "She didn't come back last night and hasn't been around this morning."

Zara shrugged. "This is Weasley we're talking about. She's probably fine." She smirked. "Maybe she made a new friend and bunked with them."

He stared at them. Wait, what?

"Well, if she did," Erin said, checking her watch as the group of them walked toward the exit. "She's cutting it dangerously close to the start time."

"Here's hoping she didn't over sleep," Zara offered, glancing over at Jack. "See if she turns up around lunch. I wouldn't worry yet."

He tried not to, especially once he became engrossed in their final day of training before the actual Quidditch began. His mind had been completely preoccupied with his countless attempts to knock a Bludger as hard and far as possible with his backhand, that by the time the day was over and he remembered, he'd somehow found the energy to jog back to their room and check that something—anything—had moved. He was hoping to walk in on her sitting on her bed, tired and angry with him. He didn't even care if she yelled at him, as long as she was accounted for.

What he found when he opened the door made him breath an enormous sigh of relief. She was passed out asleep, looking as if she'd come straight from training and hadn't bothered to shower or change. She still even had her trainers on. There was probably a reason for that—a reason he felt responsible for—but she was here. She was alive and she was alright. That alone made him feel loads better.

He'd let her sleep, choosing to spend his evening finishing up the last of his book work out in the common area with a few of the rest of the Hogwarts' group. When he'd gone back to the room that night once everything was done, he attempted to quietly fumble around in the dark so as to not disturb her. She hadn't moved a muscle since he'd seen her earlier, and for a second he thought maybe he should check her decided against once he realized he was acting ridiculous.

He instead changed and started settling himself in, but not before realizing that her workbook had spilled all over the floor. Pages had come out and were completely out of order, so he went about picking them up and setting them right by the light of his wand. He noticed she hadn't finished her work, and if he could somehow fake his handwriting to look anything like hers, he would have done it for her. That was probably frowned upon, but it was due tomorrow morning and he knew how important those two points were. Had he not made her feel like she couldn't return to the room last night and forced her into a position where she had to sleep off the rest of today, she probably would have finished.

He settled on fixing the book for her and setting it to the side so she—hopefully—woke with enough time in the morning to finish. If anything, he'd wake her up when he got up to run tomorrow. Yeah, that he could do. She'll have slept for ages by that point; she could finish everything easily if he did that.

But she was gone when he'd got up the next morning, which meant she'd gotten up even earlier than he had. When he blinked around the dark room, he also noticed her workbook was gone, which meant she had to be finishing it. That was a huge relief; so much so that it made him smile. She'd figured it out; she always did.

She wasn't in the common room where he'd assumed she'd be, but he did find her in the commissary with her book pushed to the side and looking as if she was either taking a break or completely done. He'd approached the table slowly, still unsure as to what reaction he was going to get out of her, but when their eyes met, she'd seemed to be feeling almost as awkward as he felt.

"I was dumb and stayed out all night," she told him, along with Zara and Erin who'd turned up for breakfast. "I paid for it yesterday. I was so exhausted that I performed like complete shit. Sabatino even said so. I may have single-handedly destroyed everything I work for in a couple of hours."

Jack stared at her. She had to be exaggerating. This was Dominique, and she was a phenomenal Seeker—the best at Hogwarts as far as he was concerned; probably one of the best ones here. Even her bad days were everyone else's best days. She was just ridiculously hard on herself and always had been.

"How bad could you have been?" Zara had asked from her seat beside Jack. She was staring at Dominique across as if she also assumed she was being overdramatic.

"I was sick all over the pitch, which Sabatino cleaned up. I also spent every second I wasn't on a broom facedown in the grass."

The Slytherin girls pulled awkward faces, though Jack just found himself staring down at the table. Shit. This was his fault. If he hadn't made her feel like she couldn't come back to their room, she would have got enough sleep, she wouldn't have played like shit, she wouldn't have been sick…

And as it turned out, Dominique was leaving one significant part of her story out, which Durrin had turned up minutes later to reveal. While Jack had been sitting here feeling like a right prat for being the ultimate cause of Dominique being forced out into the night on her own, it turned out she wasn't really on her own at all. Not even a little bit...

"Stu Reynolds," Durrin had answered, to a question about his roommate that Zara had posted to him once he'd revealed Dominique had spent her evening in his room with him. She'd been off with him instead of on that bench Jack had pictured in his head.

Zara and Erin nearly lost their minds at the news, and while Jack was initially shocked, he also didn't want to believe it.

Stuart Reynolds? Perfect, pretty boy, Reynolds—the one she couldn't stand back at Hogwarts because he was a perfect, pretty boy—had somehow pulled her? Which...What? How did…? Why did she…? He's not even that good-looking.

Well, yeah, shit. He actually is. But he...that is to say, other than being stupid kinds of handsome, why him? Seriously? What's so special?

"I'm not talking about this," Dominique said repeatedly to the onslaught of questions that Zara and Erin had flung at her. She didn't admit to sleeping with him, even if it was obvious, but Jack was selfishly hoping she hadn't. Or, if she had, that it was terrible, god awful sex. He couldn't help but think that Reynolds would set a ridiculously high standard for her now. After all, who could compete with that guy?

...Not that anyone _was_ trying to compete with that guy. He wasn't sure why he thought that.

He'd excused himself after that, from the gossipy demands for details that Zara and Erin were still trying to wiggle out of Dominique. He still needed to get his morning run in and he now found that he was full of anxious energy he wanted to burn.

As he jogged, it occurred to him that Dominique had a thing for blokes that she at one point and time couldn't stand. Reynolds, Davies...there seemed to be a pattern. If this were true, that seemed to take him out of consideration…

He stopped running all of the sudden at that thought, as if he'd hit some imaginary wall. Wait, why did he want to be in consideration?

But that was the question he'd been asking himself for the remainder of the day every time she popped up into his thoughts. He'd been so convinced she was still so hung up on Davies and her breakup that she wasn't even thinking about other guys.

However, she apparently was thinking about other guys, only they were of the Stuart Reynolds variety. Still, that meant she was open to new things and people...right? Was the door open again? Or was Reynolds just a drunken mistake like his encounter with Chloe had been?

Then again, just because the door was open, it didn't mean _he_ was permitted to walk through it.

"Hey, Ians," came Giggleswick's voice, just as their pre-match team meeting concluded and everyone readying themselves to take to the sky for the day's final match. "Don't forget whose team you're on. Weasley's the one you're after. Do your job."

Jack stared at him, his tone bored as he muttered, "Yeah, but you know what they say about old habits, Giggles."

"Just don't fuck it up," Giggleswick spat.

Jack made a face. Giggleswick—of all people—wasn't allowed to say that before a match. That was a sacred tradition that belonged to him and Dominique, the only Seeker he wanted to hear that phrase from before they took to their brooms. He could fuck right off.

Once the match got off, it had been slow moving for scoring, but Jack had to be especially on top of things because that Durmstrang bloke on the opposite team, called Richter, was practically knocking bricks around the pitch. He was insane, and Jack was certain he was going to watch him take someone's head off soon enough. It was the one good thing about having Giggleswick on his team, seeing as he would be Richter's central target.

Jack had hammered a Bludger straight at a speedy Chaser, knocking the Quaffle out of her hands and causing her to plummet a bit before catching herself and pulling back up. She was good. So many of these people were unbelievably good; it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced at Hogwarts where he played with a handful of people who were anything near this level.

He saw the Snitch then, right around mid-pitch and fluttering a few feet off the ground. Dominique saw it too and he watched her dive after it. An excited jolt burned through him because she had this. They'd wrap this up here and now; they'd win—or, er...actually _her_ team would…

Wait, shit, he was supposed to be stopping her.

Giggleswick was making a mad dash after the Snitch now as well, and old habits really did die hard because Jack had to squash the intense urge to chase a Bludger to thwart his efforts. Striking down Giggleswick was misplaced—he needed to fight that, he was supposed to be gunning for Dominique. This wasn't normal; he needed to shake off normal. He needed to...

With a deafening crack from across the pitch, a Bludger—courtesy of Richter—ripped across the sky and nailed Giggleswick straight in the back. Jack could hear the thud of iron against skin and bone; even he grimaced as Giggleswick went sailing off his broom. That was going to leave an awful mark.

He knew they were about to stop play to tend to Giggleswick; that or Dominique was going to catch the Snitch first. Jack had literally three seconds to react, seeing as a Bludger had come directly into his vicinity. Every instinct he had was screaming that there was an opposing Seeker growing closer and closer to capturing the Snitch and he needed to stop them. If he connected with that Bludger now, he could stop her. He could knock her straight off her broom and keep this match going. He could stop her team from winning.

But at what cost? What if he hurt her? That wasn't worth it; he needed her for Quidditch back at school. Plus, he knew she needed this win more than he needed this stop. He'd been killing it lately; she'd been struggling. He could do her a real favor by letting her capture this Snitch rather epically.

But, complete inaction would cost him. People were watching; he had the obvious shot and if he didn't take it, he was basically erasing so much of the work he'd put in this week. He wouldn't be able to explain to people why he sat on his broom and did nothing. He had to do something.

He pulled himself right, opening his bat swing up as wide as possibly. He was good enough to get in close, but avoid collision. If he just...He could make it seem like—

He hit that Bludger at such an angle that if he'd done that correctly, it should miss her by several feet. It would scare her, but look legitimate.

He watched as it said toward her. It should miss...it really should...OK, if she just stopped speeding up it definitely would. She just needed to…

He swallowed. She wasn't slowing down. He'd miscalculated Dominique's insane need to constantly continue accelerating into the ground when most Seekers would be slowing themselves by now. It's what made her dives always so impressive looking.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he muttered. "Don't hit her. Don't hit her. Don't hit her." He was immediately reminded of what had happened with Holly back in his fourth-year—how he'd hit her and he really hadn't needed to. Jiffy's words of, " _Don't hit the ones you're keen on_ …" suddenly flooded his brain.

Inches. It looked as if he barely missed her face by inches. He'd come painfully close to her head, and it certainly startled her enough to lose grip of her broom. He held his breath as he watched her fall hard a few feet to the ground. She didn't move straight away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What did he do?

The whistle blew then. He looked around. Was the match over? Had Dominique got the Snitch? Medi-wizards were tending to Giggleswick, using their wands to levitate him off the pitch, and as Jack landed it seemed Dominique was getting up on her own accord. He saw her pulling herself up onto her elbows as her teammates surrounded her. The Snitch was visible just beside her body. She looked dazed, but undamaged. She'd won the match.

He smiled to himself. As long as she was unharmed, he considered that a win—even if his team didn't. His Beating partner had come over to offer a watery sounding, "Good match," and tell him how close he'd come to getting the Seeker with that final shot. "Rotten luck."

Jack shrugged it off as something beyond his control. "She's a really good Seeker."

And while he'd gotten an earful and practically throttled by his own bat once Dominique got a hold of him and yelled, "You almost took my bloody head off!" she seemed to—eventually—understand his reasoning once he explained himself from a Quidditch point of view. She truly had no idea how much he could have ended her out there, but he let her get out her obvious frustrations at him getting so close. It had been too close for comfort, he could admit that.

When he went to collect his final ranking an hour later, he'd been cornered by Fernwich, his accuracy coach, on his way into the Beaters' room. He had a smile for him as he clapped him on the back rather proudly.

"You should be pleased with your final ranking," he said to him. "You've put on an impressive show for someone with a year of school still left."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said, now wondering just how pleased he should be.

"Be prepared to have quite a few people wanting to meet with you in the following days," he offered, looking as if that was all he had to say on the matter. Jack had assumed he was moving along, but Fernwich had stopped rather suddenly and turned back to look at him. "But can I ask you something, Ians?'

When Jack nodded, Fernwich's expression grew curious. "Wide open shot at the end of that last match. Easy shot. Should have been nothing for someone with your skills."

Oh...he saw that.

"I haven't seen you miss anything that easy in the entire week we've worked together," he said, a funny look playing upon his face. "I found it odd. That is, until I saw you and the Seeker walking over here after the match. You seemed friendly." His eyebrows narrowed. "Then it made sense."

"I…" Jack said, not really knowing what to say. "She's my teammate at school. I…"

"If you end up in a professional league, Mr. Ians, you'll make friends," he said with an expression that was a mixture of scolding and sympathy. "You'll have teammates for years who you'll grow close to who will disappear to other teams. There's actually a husband and wife in Spain who play on different teams; he's a Keeper and she a Chaser." He smirked slightly. "They don't go easy on each other, and neither should you. It's ultimately a game. Keep that in mind for the future."

Ultimately a game _. A game where people can easily put people in hospital,_ Jack thought. And a Keeper and a Chaser weren't going to do the same kinds of damage he was with his bat and a ball flying at a hundred miles per hour. While he understood his point, that wasn't a good example.

"You still scored exceptionally well," Fernwich said, this time actually turning to walk away. "If I'm being honest, I was looking for a reason to not score you perfectly because I hate giving out perfect scores—it just seems too neat, you know? So, at least you gave me a reason."

He apparently meant that as some sort of warped compliment, but Jack found himself annoyed. It seemed that sparing Dominique a potential concussion and a night in the hospital building cost him a perfect score in accuracy?

He sighed. If that was the price he had to pay...

He'd done, just as Fernwich said, exceptionally well on his ranking. Upon collecting his paper, he'd been handed a packet, unlike most everyone else who'd only got a single sheet. It only took him a second to realize why, especially once he saw the number nine staring back at him from the final ranking spot.

It made him double take, seeing as he'd expected an eight. He's scored straight sevens across the board, though his "Accuracy" seven stung a bit knowing he could have pulled a perfect eight. With the added bookwork, his score was raised two points—putting him directly in the elite category. He was at the top of the entire Beating group. That's what all these extra pages were—scheduled meetings, meet and greets, and conferences for the players who'd achieved the highest rankings. There was a lot to go through.

He'd rushed back to the dorms, not really sure what he wanted to do with this information, but feeling excited all the same. Telling people outright seemed braggy, which he learned quickly after Erin Tanner gawked at him once he told her his score in passing. It made him feel slightly self-conscious, if only because he was now oddly worried that people would think differently of him. The rankings supposedly changed things around here.

Dominique especially was a concern, seeing as she'd claimed to have been playing poorly and was afraid her ranking would reflect that. What if she had done bad? What if she saw his score as another reason to resent him, just like the captain thing all over again? They were in such a good place right now, he didn't want to go into seventh year with her angry with him.

But he was trying not to think of that just yet, especially once he got back to his dorm room and found it empty. She wasn't here, so he let himself sit on his bed and read over this ranking sheet, focusing on the large nine in the upper right hand corner. A bloody nine. This was amazing. All of that hard work paying off. How many people could say they'd gotten a nine?

A knock on his open door made him look up; a taller, dark haired bloke with a very white smile was grinning at him, gesturing to his small stack of papers. "I knew you'd get those, too. What number did you get?"

"A nine," Jack smirked.

The guy—who was called Diego, and had worked with him out on the pitch in the Beater's group over the week—learned against the door frame. "Same here."

"Well, cheers to us," Jack offered.

Diego laughed. "You, me, and Gabin all got nines, then. Highest in the group. There were no tens. Fernwich told me."

Holy shit, he was top three...The Premier match took the top four, so that essentially made him a shoo-in as long as he—

"Wait," Jack said suddenly. "What about Richter?" The Durmstrang bloke who'd been destroying everyone all week; the one who had got Giggleswick earlier that day. Honestly, he'd given some of the best Beating performances Jack had ever laid eyes on. How did he not _at least_ get a nine?

"Got an eight," said Diego, a mixture of shock and amusement playing on his features. "But that had nothing to do with his performance scores. No, those were apparently near perfect." He glanced out into the corridor then, almost as if looking for something, before turning back around. "He didn't do the book work."

"You're serious?

"Go see for yourself, he's having a meltdown in the common area as we speak."

"Holy shit…" Jack muttered, just as something in the corridor caught Diego's attention. He'd turned to speak to someone, though as soon as they responded, Jack immediately recognized that voice as Dominique's. It caused him to stand from his bed and immediately stick his head out to greet her.

"Nic! You'll never–"

"You got a bloody nine!" she screamed, grinning from ear to ear as she actually pushed Diego out of the way to get to him. She seemed genuinely excited, which was an immediate relief. This was definitely not like the Gryffindor captain thing where she'd been cold and aloof; this was happy, celebratory, this was...

Before he knew what was happening, she was hugging him. She'd flung her arms around his neck and grabbed him tightly, taking him completely off guard because she wasn't a hugger or a physical person—unless that physicality involved punching or kicking. But this was a proper hug; her body rushing into his, her arms tightening around his neck as she forced him to stumble backwards and topple onto his bed in a completely haphazard manner. She didn't let go and fell on top of him.

They stared at each other for a rather long moment, and she seemed embarrassed the longer their eyes lingered. He could feel her exhaled breath leaving her nostrils; her face was close enough to kiss. She didn't seem to know what to say. He wasn't sure what to do, though he managed to finally crack a smile and say, "Hi there."

She smiled too, a definite aura of amazement wafting from her that made Jack suddenly feel so much cooler and confident. She was impressed; impressed by him. If she kept looking at him like that, he might have to go and try to jump off a building or something just to capture this feeling once more. He wanted to bottle it.

"I hate you so much," she finally said, in a way only she could. Her own backwards way of complimenting him, but he knew it was only the highest of praise considering the source. She wasn't angry. She wasn't upset. She was even lying on top of him.

And even though nothing would happen; even though she would get up in the next few seconds and probably punch him or call him some name; all he could think was how a comet could come sweeping through this room right now and it wouldn't be able to wipe the smile off of his face.

This was a good day.

* * *

**#32: Cat's Out of the Bag**

"I'm your best mate's sister," said Dominique as she stormed off toward the dormitory. "And now I know exactly what that's worth!"

Jack watched her go, wondering where in the hell that outburst had come from? She'd been drinking all night, so perhaps it was just a run of the mill, drunk, angry moment. But that anger hadn't felt random. It very much felt as if it had been aimed at him.

But he hadn't done anything. Yeah, he's mouthed off to Giggleswick a bit when he'd come over here being a dick to her. And yes, Dominique wasn't the type who wanted to be—or needed to be defended—but he hadn't done that just for her to be some sort of big, strong man type. He was genuinely tired of listening to Giggleswick run that stupid fucking mouth of his. It didn't make sense for her to be angry.

He reached up and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired after a day of endlessly long Quidditch matches and an evening of constant meetings—where he probably shook a hundred hands and talked for ages about what he felt performing at the professional level would mean and why he wanted to do it. His brain was fried and he'd only wanted to come and sit out here to visit with Dominique—who he'd hadn't seen all day—and help himself wind down so he could sleep that night. So much for that.

He groaned to himself. He needed to go and sleep, especially considering that he had earned a spot in the Premier match tomorrow, the biggest Quidditch game of his entire life. He'd been selected the third of four Beaters and was the only student athlete in the bunch; it was a big deal.

He needed to focus solely on that, but now that Dominique had gone back to their shared room angry with him. He was going to have to wait her out. He needed her to either cool down or fall asleep first; a part of him was hoping for the sleep. He didn't think he had the energy in him to have another back and forth with her tonight.

From around the table he was currently sharing with some of his other schoolmates, Zara Zabini and Erin Tanner were talking in quiet whispers and casting quick looks in his direction. Beside them, Mike Ellison and Ellibit Collins were playing with a deck of cards. The two cast Jack a strange sort of look, as if no one wanted to immediately comment on Dominique storming off in a huff.

"You know," Mike said absently, now dealing cards around the table. "Sometimes I wonder if Weasley and Giggleswick hate each other _too_ much."

"What do you mean?" asked Zara, watching him fling cards.

"I mean," he continued, "they loathe each other. And they say there is a thin line between love and hate. Look at her and Davies. They used to scream at each other and that obviously turned into something." He laughed a little. "Maybe Giggles is just the next Davies."

Jack immediately pulled a horrified face, though some of the others laughed, with Ellibit saying, "I hope not." He had been about to speak up and say how he severely doubted that would ever happen, but in a loud, very drunk voice, Erin suddenly said, "No, you're wrong. It's not Giggles she fancies." She pointed at Jack rather obviously. "It's Ians."

Jack blinked. Where on Earth did that come from?

Mike and Ellibit turned to look at him, while Zara's eyes went wide. She swatted Erin hard and said something along the lines of, "Shut up. That's not your business to tell."

"What's not?" Erin asked, seemingly confused and slurring her words. "What did I say?"

"You've had too much to drink," Zara said, glancing over at Jack a bit tentatively. He was staring back at her, but he wasn't sure why she seemed so concerned. Did she think he believed that? Erin was clearly talking shit.

"What did I say?" Erin repeated, apparently having forgotten already.

"You said Weasley's got a thing for Ians," Mike said, pointing at him.

"Oh," Erin muttered, waving that off. "That?" She looked over at Jack. "Well, now you know. Cat's out of the bag."

"Erin," Zara said, though she was laughing before she looked at Jack. "She's awful with secrets. But I guess you do know now."

"Nic doesn't fancy me," Jack said straight away. He'd even laughed a little since the idea of it all was just that—laughable. "It's not like that. We're really good friends and I know people like to assume because of that—"

"I'm not assuming anything," Erin said matter-of-factly. "I heard the words come out of her mouth about an hour ago. Zara did too, didn't you?"

Zara said nothing, but did slowly nod.

"She said the two of you are," Erin made air quotes with her fingers, "'complicated,' but she definitely fancies you. Even told my ex, Felicity. That's where I first heard it. She was there talking to her and Annabelle Paige about you."

Jack continued to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Even if for some reason this was true, Dominique Weasley did not go around telling girls she barely knew things like that. She was not that girl. They needed to realize who they were dealing with.

"Why would she tell anyone that?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't she?" Erin asked.

"Because I know her, and she's not talking about that sort of thing with just anyone, so…" He smiled and shrugged as if he'd just proved his point.

"You're really thick, you know that?" Erin said. "Why do you think she got all upset and stormed out after you sat here talking about how you can't kiss your best mate's sister? Why do you think I reminded you that Louis has _two_ sisters?"

"I have no idea. It was a very random comment."

"Orrr, it's because she's your best mate's sister, and she wants to kiss you," Erin said, as if she were talking to a small child. She shook her head. "Idiot."

Jack's brow furrowed as he let that last part sink in. "Wait, what?"

"Alright, let's stop," Zara said, throwing Erin a rather silencing stare. Jack could hear her whisper, "When Weasley curses you into the ground tomorrow, just know you deserved it."

"Oh, please," Erin said. "Why is it such a bloody secret?"

"I don't know, but it's not our secret to tell…"

Jack stared at them, but he wasn't listening any longer to what they were saying. They weren't serious. They couldn't possibly be serious. He immediately felt his mind switch into overdrive. No. There was no way. No. She couldn't...She still wasn't over Davies. Sure, the thing with Stuart happened, but that was a drunk hookup, not...No, she definitely wasn't over Davies.

Zara sighed and singled out Jack in a private conversation, smiling a little sympathetically as she did. "Sorry you had to find out from Erin, but honestly, is it such a bad thing?"

He stared at her.

"You two are really close, and you're one of a handful of people who seem to have a positive effect on her. I think it would be a good thing. The best kinds of relationships start from friendships."

He continued to stare at her.

"Plus, you two could be cute together," she offered. "A very attractive pair. She's really pretty."

"Who's pretty?" Erin asked, butting into their conversation like a sledgehammer. "Who are we talking about?"

"Still Weasley."

Erin immediately started nodding. "Oh, shit, yeah. She's crazy, but she's gorgeous. I burned a bit of a candle for her back when I was younger. Really wanted her to like girls and thought she might have for a tic since boys didn't seem to be doing it for her, but then she turns up with Davies." She faked a gag.

Zara laughed. "You wish everyone liked girls."

"I wish the hot ones did," she said. "All that beauty and sex appeal being wasted on a bunch of dumb knobs." She pointed directly at Jack. "Ones that are too thick to even realize it when it's staring them in the bloody face. I mean, come on. She was literally squirming when you were talking about not wanting to kiss Louis' sister."

"So obvious," Zara agreed.

He stared at them. Erin's insult didn't even penetrate him because he was now entirely lost with what was apparently happening. He literally had no idea what to say to any of this. His head felt as if it were about to explode. Was any of this true? Could it possibly be true?

"He's thinking about it," Erin said, and Jack noticed he and Zara were staring directly at him. "You can see it in his face. It's that empty, vacant quality boys often get." She turned back to Zara. "I don't know why so many of you waste your time on them…"

"I need to…" he stood up, "get some sleep."

"Yeah, big match tomorrow," Mike offered from down the table, where he and Ellibit had just been snogging a bit. "Get your beauty sleep, mate. We'll be out there cheering you on."

Jack forced a polite smile, noticing that Zara and Erin were giggling about something as he excused himself to head back to his room. As he walked along the corridor, he found himself at a loss as to what he should do or say when he walked in. Could any of this be true? Did he ask Dominique about what he'd heard? Did he ignore it and let her continue to be angry? Did he play dumb? What was he supposed to do?

He took a deep breath before he gently knocked on the door they both shared; after several seconds of silence, he slowly pushed it open. He immediately found himself greeted by a brightly lit room where Dominique, on her own bed, was lying fast asleep. He stared at her for a moment as he quietly shut the door behind him.

Well, it seemed this conversation was going to be avoided for the time being, though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. As he watched her lying there, in her well-fitted Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt and grey leggings, her chest rose up and down with each sleepy breath she took. Her silvery blonde hair was splayed over her pillow perfectly—like blonde flames were shooting out of her head—as if she'd arranged it on purpose to look cool in her sleep. But of course she hadn't. She never would bother with something like that.

He swallowed a little as he glanced over to his own bed and proceeded to go and sit down as loudly as possibly, letting it squeak underneath him in the hopes it would wake her up. He glanced over at her bed and saw she hadn't stirred. Her chest was still rising in slow and even movements. He reached down and took off his first trainer; then his second, letting his bed squeak with each movement. When she still didn't stir, he let himself gently bounce up and down a few times, but still nothing. She was clearly out.

He sighed. Well, they apparently weren't talking tonight, which suddenly disappointed him more than he'd have thought. He reached up and rubbed his eyes again, knowing he had to get some sleep—tomorrow was too important not to—but yet he couldn't stop casting glances in her direction.

He saw her blanket resting at the foot of her bed. He'd learned this week that she had a habit of collapsing on top of her bed instead of inside of it. He took it upon himself to stand and fetch it, opening it up and laying it over top of her. She still didn't stir, and he took one last moment to stare at her face and how peaceful she looked when she slept. This was the same girl who could destroy someone with a few words and had made so many people cower, but here she looked downright angelic. She looked rather perfect. The longer he looked at her, he wasn't sure if she had a single physical flaw.

He immediately turned away toward his bed and proceeded to pull his t-shirt off. He had a habit of sleeping in his boxer shorts, though while he'd been here and sharing a room with her, he'd opted to keep his joggers on for her benefit. For a split second he'd forgotten and had begun to remove them, but stopped when he noticed he was now sporting a semi. He pulled them back up in alarm, shut his eyes, and let his head fall backwards as a world of realization now hit him like a Bludger. "Shit."

He'd been doing so well at keeping his feelings for her contained.

He let himself fall onto his stomach on his bed. This wasn't the first time she'd been the source of that particular reaction in his pants, but now there seemed to be so much more meaning behind it. Everything had been so much easier when he believed things to be unrequited.

He pushed his face into his pillow. This was Dominique, for fuck's sake. This couldn't actually happen. She'd never once made it seem as if she was paying him more than the typical, "we're friends" piece of mind. Because that's what they were. They were friends. They were Quidditch teammates. They weren't anything more. Why was he even thinking about this if she'd never given him a reason to?

He lifted up his head and glanced over to her bed again. She'd rolled slightly onto her side and was facing him, still fast asleep. Fuck, she was pretty. He wondered what her lips would feel like on his.

He groaned a little into his pillow. He needed to stop. He needed to stop. He needed to stop. He had no idea what Erin and Zara had said earlier was true. They could easily be full of shit and she didn't fancy him in the least. He was letting his mind run wild now. He had no proof. She was crying about Davies a few days ago outside of the commissary. She had sex with another bloke two days ago! If she fancied him then why go after Reynolds and not him? They're sharing a room; they're beds are feet apart. Given the right set of circumstances and maybe a bit of drinking to cut through that awkward, early tension, they could have…

Now he was definitely letting his mind run wild. He'd gone from imagining her lips kissing his to now imagining throwing her down on that bed, slowly undressing her, and kissing so many different parts of her until he now found himself rather achy in his boxers. What the fuck?

He had to remember that she'd given him no indication to think she fancied him. None. He was basing this all off of gossip. Why was he letting himself even think about this? He had more important shit to concentrate on right now. He needed to sleep and prep his brain for Quidditch tomorrow; he didn't need to have a bloody hard-on for the girl sleeping five feet away who he apparently still had more feelings for than he could have possibly imagined an hour ago.

He turned away from her and face the wall, now forcing Bludgers and angles into his head as he closed his eyes, ignored his pants, and tried with all of his might to will himself to go to fucking sleep. Stop acting as if she personally confessed her feelings to you, because she didn't. There was no reason to think that she did.

But what if she did?

* * *

**#33: Potted Plant**

Jack knocked quickly on a brown, wooden front door. It was a particularly warm evening, even for August. There was a residual mugginess in the air that was left over from a rainfall earlier in the afternoon, which was also apparent given the drops of water that were still collected on a nearby window sill. The same window that was currently illuminating light from within the house, so someone was clearly home. He only wondered if they were inside the house or out back in the garden.

He knocked again, louder this time. He could have sworn he saw shuffling somewhere inside; the sound of the doorknob being turned quickly followed. When the door pulled open, he was suddenly greeted by a petite little brunette, no older than twelve. He immediately smiled politely at her, though she froze ever so slightly in the door frame. She seemed surprised to see him.

"Hey, Fee," he offered, still smiling. "How's it going?"

Fee, or Fiona Taggart, was Flynn's little sister. She was a sweet kid who he was well aware had taken a bit of a fancy to him over the years. He'd known her since she was seven and he was twelve; even back then, she'd always seemed to have a little crush on him. He genuinely thought it stemmed from the fact that he'd always been nice and engaged her in conversation, whereas so many of Flynn's other friends treated her like a houseplant who simply lived there.

Flynn always thought it was funny, and enjoyed taking the piss on both of them; frequently joking in the past how Jack couldn't get a girl his own age keen on him, but he had plenty of options in the primary school set. It never bothered Jack much, but it obviously embarrassed Fiona to the point of feverish blushing.

"It's going...well," she said slowly, a small smile crossing her slightly pink face. "Flynn's out back. I know you're here to see him."

"I'm here to see all of you," he said, throwing her a smile as she stepped aside to let him enter.

She was still blushing as she continued to smile. She seemed to be in a very good mood as she shut the door behind her. "How were the Quidditch Trials? Did you do well?"

He nodded. "I actually did, yeah. Really well."

"I knew you would," she said, her pink cheeks creeping toward red. "You're really talented."

He laughed a little. "Thank you." He glanced around. "But yeah, I think as long as I have a good season, I'll be invited back next year."

A flash of astonishment crossed her face. "Wow. Jack that's amazing. You deserve it."

He again smiled politely at her just as the sound of a backdoor opening and shutting caught his attention. He turned to see Flynn having emerged at the back of the house and headed toward the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Jack.

"Look who it is!" he shouted, as if it had been ages since they'd last spoken instead of two weeks. "I was wondering when you'd stop by." He glanced at his sister as he approached the pair, and immediately rolled his eyes. "Fee, you're redder than a fucking tomato."

All good natured sentiments dropped off Fiona's face in a heartbeat. She was now glaring at him.

He turned back toward Jack. "If only you had that effect on grown women instead of small children."

Fiona's face now flushed in an entirely different way as she scoffed and muttered, "You're such an arsehole, Flynn," before she brushed past the pair of them and off toward the stairs. The sounds of her stomping up each and every one was more than apparent.

Jack threw him a look, which Flynn immediately brushed off. "She needs reminding that she's a child. She thinks she's grown already. Get this, she's been wearing makeup lately. And Flyer overheard her and one of her little friends talking about how, if the chance came up, they would let a boy touch them—" He then gestured to his chest, "which mind you, they're all as flat as boards, so I don't know what they think anyone would be touching."

"Never stopped any of us from wanting to try when we were that age," Jack offered.

"Fuck that," Flynn muttered, now leading Jack toward the kitchen. "She's twelve. She's not allowed feelings and urges like that yet. Because when those get combined with some horny little prat for who's basically a walking erection, bad shit can happen."

Jack wanted to remind Flynn that he'd been the walking erection when they'd been twelve, having actually drawn diagrams and practically held lectures on the parts of girls he hoped to touch soon enough. But he instead just said, "I don't think she's looking for your permission, mate."

Flynn rolled his eyes as they reached the kitchen. "She's a baby." He pointed to an icebox. "You want a beer?"

"Sure do," Jack said as Flynn suddenly tossed him once, which he caught easily. Flynn already had his wand out and was popping the bottle tops from where he stood, watching as Jack's shot off into the air. Despite being startled by the action, Jack managed to catch it rather awkwardly. That was a surprise for them both, and they took a moment to exchange silent looks of celebration.

"You and those bloody reflexes," Flynn quipped, gesturing for him to head toward the back garden. "Pretty sure nothing gets past you these days. Speaking of which—"

They emerged outside, where the warm, muggy air once again engulfed them. They took to a nearby table, where some chairs scattered about, and pulled them around to settle across from each other. Flynn went to put his bottle down and finally finished his earlier thought. "How were the Trials? I want all the gory details. Is it as wild as they say?"

"Parts of it, definitely."

Flynn eagerly urged him to continue. "And, what happened?

"Well," Jack said, swigging from his bottle as he settled back into his chair. "I got a ranking of nine."

Flynn's face fell. Clearly that wasn't the sort of details he was keen on hearing. He put his bottle to his mouth and drank from it, and eventually did ask, "Wait, out of ten?"

When Jack nodded, Flynn added, "That's got to be good, right?"

"It's top level, yeah. Good enough to earn me a spot in the top match." He raised his bottle in salute. "Which my team won."

"Fuck, seriously?" Flynn said, rocking forward in his chair rather excitedly. "So, now what? Are you going pro?"

He shrugged. "Hopefully next year, but too early to say right now." He looked up at the sky. "Have another year of school to get through and I've got to keep up momentum. If I lose it, who knows what happens."

"But if you do that, you'll probably go pro?"

He smirked a little. "Yeah, there's a good chance."

"Fuck!" Flynn yelled happily, immediately reaching forward with his bottle to clank it against Jack. "Merlin's tit, mate. You're going play professional fucking Quidditch! You're going to make money playing Quidditch."

Jack laughed. "Let me get there first. So, much can happen, I just have to stay focused."

"Mate, focus is your middle fucking name!" Flynn said, his tone still happy. "If anyone's got this, it's you." He started shaking his head back and forth in a matter of disbelief before he suddenly stopped and looked back at him. "What'd Nicki get?"

Jack inhaled slowly at the mention of her name. He'd been thinking of her rather non-stop lately for reasons that had very little to do with Quidditch.

He hadn't got to ask her if there was any truth to Erin and Zara's claims that she fancied him because he'd chickened out. Sure, she had waited for him after the Premier match was over so that they could talk, which hadn't been a short wait by any means, but that didn't mean she fancied him. It easily meant she wanted to talk Quidditch with him because that's what they do. That's what their relationship was 90% about.

He'd tried to put some feelers out there with her, though again, he had no idea where to even start with Dominique. Not only was she intimidatingly attractive, she was flat out intimidating, full stop. How was he supposed to even attempt to turn their conversation into a more flirtatious direction when he was sort of afraid she'd laugh in his face? She was not an easy girl to impress or compliment.

So he'd done the only thing he could think of and that was attempt to suggest that, maybe, they could hang out. He'd meant only the two of them, though he hadn't outright said it. He was sure she assumed he'd meant they hang out in the usual fashion—with Louis, Sarah, and Flynn around—which wasn't what he wanted, but he'd take what he could get. As it were now, she'd been in France for the last week and he'd been...here.

Jack started absently rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at the ground. "A seven. She got a seven."

Flynn shrugged as if to say that was fine. "Not as good as you, then."

"It's still really good," he said quickly. "But yeah, she'll need to work hard."

"Anyone else I know do well?"

"Zara got an eight, which is considered top level, too. She did really well."

Flynn made a happy grunt of a noise, immediately smiling over to Jack. "Uh, she is so fit. If I could smash just one person..."

Jack rolled his eyes, but smirked at Flynn's delusional fantasy. He had a thing for every girl, but Zara seemed to have a hold on him. She was entirely out of his league and would never give him the time of day, but he continued to dream. The closest he ever came was back when they were in third year when she and Louis had their flirty thing; those couple of months were the closest proximity Flynn had ever been to her that didn't include classroom time.

"She and Reggie split up you know," Flynn was saying. "I ran into him at Nick Coulson's house last week. He mentioned it. I mean, I know they'll probably get back together because they always do, but that means at least for now, she's single."

"Yeah, she'd mentioned at the Trials she and Reggie weren't together," Jack said absently, now reading the label on his beer bottle. "And I saw her chatting up a few blokes when we went out."

"You went out with Zara?"

Jack looked over at him. "I did in a group. All of us did. Nic was there. Erin. Mike and Ellibit. She was just a part of it. We split up almost immediately. I went one way, she was off chatting up her boys somewhere else."

"You should have chatted her up!" Flynn practically yelled, pointing the neck of his bottle at him. "You're both single, you've both got the Quidditch thing going on—"

Jack laughed. "Zara's your thing, not mine."

"Tell me she's not fucking fit."

"I mean, she is…"

"Then why not? You could probably pull her now that you're some Quidditch superstar. And if you pull her, I can live vicariously through you. And Merlin knows you need to get laid. Your cock's probably broken."

He started to laugh at the absurd randomness of Flynn's comment. "How do you know I didn't while I was at the Trials?"

"Unless it was Zara, who cares?"

Jack shrugged and settled back into his seat, swigging from his bottle once more. "Alright then."

They fell into a comfortable silence until Flynn turned to look at him. He seemed to be suddenly inspecting his face and his body language. "Did you?"

"You said you didn't care."

"No, fuck you. Did you?" Flynn asked, now sounding more than interested in the details. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "I mean, I got with this girl whose friend I was actually keen on, but through the power of alcohol, I ended up with her."

"And?"

He shrugged. "If I'm being honest, I barely remember. We were drunk and it was dark. It was just a blowjob. She was pushing for more, but I was starting to sober up and wanted to sleep."

Flynn rolled his eyes. "Of course you did."

"She wasn't the girl I was interested in," Jack said, as if that were obvious. "Not to mention, Nic walked in on us."

"Oh, shit," Flynn said, laughing hard at that. "That'll kill an erection, right there." He held his index finger up straight and immediately let it fall over.

"Yeah, it definitely did," Jack muttered, again being reminded of Dominique having walked in on him with some other girl's mouth on him. He'd thankfully been too drunk to remember the exact details, but the ones his imagination had cooked up were more than enough.

"Wait, why did Nicki walk in on you?"

"We shared a room."

Flynn turned to look at him, a funny sort of smirk playing on his face. "Oh, really?"

"Nothing happened," he said quickly, though his mind suddenly went to the wishful sort of place it often did when he thought about Dominique lately. In this place, his imagination played out very different kinds of scenarios about what had happened in that shared room. It had been happening a lot lately, and it mostly ended in loads of regrets.

Flynn was still smirking. "Why would I think something would happen?"

"What?"

"You immediately said 'nothing happened,'" Flynn said. "As if that's where my head would go. Why would you assume that I thought something would happen between you and Nicki?"

Jack shrugged. "Because that's how you think. You're always quick to assume everyone's fucking. You have a hard time accepting girls and guys can just be mates."

"Not true," Flynn said. "Look at Sarah. She could literally sleep on top of me and I wouldn't dream of it. She's like a sister to me." He looked back at him. "And I assumed you and Nicki were in a similar situation."

Jack shrugged, though avoided his eyes. "I guess so. As I said, obviously nothing happened."

Flynn laughed. "But did you want it to? And remember, Louis is not here, so you can speak freely."

"No," Jack said quickly, though after a brief pause he wondered why he was so quick to downplay it. Flynn was right, Louis wasn't around. He suddenly found himself smiling a little. "I mean…"

Flynn started to laugh even harder. "Look I get it. Let's be honest, if you take away the shit attitude and the fact that she's a bitch—"

"She is not a bitch."

"Alright, now I know you're in deep if you're already denying the obvious," Flynn muttered with a rather wide-eyed expression. "But honestly, if you take all of that away, if I knew nothing about her and simply saw her across a room, she is gorgeous."

Jack took a deep breath, now watching as his knee bounced up and down anxiously. "She is, yeah."

"She is," Flynn repeated. "She's got a really pretty face when she's not scowling and wanting to destroy the world. She's got nice hair, which somehow stays really shiny even though she tries everything in her power not to pile it up on top of her head. She's got a tight little body—"

"Alright," Jack said sharply. "You think she's fit. I get it."

" _I_ think she's fit?" Flynn said. "I think she's mental. Hot, but mental. Now you…" He stared at him. "You two get on for the most part. She's always tolerated you. So, the question is, do _you_ think she's fit?"

Jack shrugged, though he didn't make eye contact with him. "I mean, obviously. No one with eyes can deny that."

"They can't." He nodded. "And shit, think how fucking hot she'd be if she actually gave a damn?"

"I like that she doesn't," Jack said, just as the sound of the back door opening and shutting caught their attention. When they turned, the familiar face of Sarah came strolling into the garden. She smiled immediately at the pair of them as hellos were exchanged, quickly stepping over to hug Jack from behind in the chair where he sat.

"Heard you did well at the Trials," she said to him, pulling away and waiting as Flynn charmed a nearby chair over.

"From who?" Jack asked, watching as she sat.

"Nic," she offered, plopping down between the two of them. "I talked to her before she and Louis left for France. Told me you killed it."

"He's going pro!" Flynn shouted, raising his bottle into the air.

Jack ignored him, instead still focusing on Sarah. "Did she say anything else happened at the Trials?"

Sarah shook her head as she crossed her legs in front of her. "No, but we only talked for a bit because I was there to see Louis off. Should she have? Did something else happen?"

Jack blinked at that. He's been hoping she'd have mentioned something about the rumor he'd heard from Zara about her having feelings for him, but that apparently wasn't the case. "No, I guess not."

"So, was it as mad as people say it is?" she asked. "Was everyone having sex everywhere?"

"Jack got a blowjob from a random girl," Flynn quipped.

Sarah gaped and looked at Flynn. " _Our_ Jack?"

He raised his bottle again. "Our Jack."

"But you're so sweet and innocent," she teased, clearly making light of the fact that he'd always been the one to be slower on the uptake than the rest of them.

"Yeah, well, I did," Jack muttered.

She reached over to pretend to pinch him on the cheek, though he immediately swatted her off and made her laugh. "You're bound to be beating them off with a stick now that you're hot shit with these amazing Quidditch rankings."

"You're annoying."

"And," Flynn said, pointing at Jack. "Nicki walked in on his right in the middle of it."

"Well, that's not cool," Sarah said with a slight frown. "She should have knocked first. She knows better."

"Eh, it was good that she did," Jack said. "Even if she did take off right after that. I felt bad though, because she never came back that night."

"Where'd she go?"

He threw Sarah a very particular look. "She didn't tell you about...?"

She was already shaking her head. "When I say we only talked for a bit, I mean it. Tell me about what? Did something happen?"

"I'll let her tell you the details," Jack said heavily, "but let's just say she ran into Stu Reynolds and they made a night of it."

Sarah's jaw practically fell to the floor. Even Flynn looked over as if that were news worth hearing. Sarah practically yelled, "You're joking!"

"I'm not, but it's not my story to tell," he shrugged. "Ask her."

"How did she not tell me that!?" She stared at him. "You're sure?"

"Positive," he muttered.

"Merlin's tit," Flynn said in a far away tone, though he did eventually look back at Jack. "See, I was right. Objectively, she's really fit. Fit enough to get the attention of blokes like Reynolds, and you know he can have anyone."

"Why are you talking about how fit Nic is?" Sarah asked, looking from one to the other.

"We talk about how fit everyone is," Flynn said as he stood up. "Except you."

"Yeah, never you," Jack agreed.

Sarah looked slightly offended by that. "Why never me?"

"Because you're practically family," Flynn said, just as Jack offered, "You're my best mate's girlfriend. That's breaking about a hundred rules. You may as well be a potted plant."

"You're annoying," Sarah grumbled, which caused Jack to laugh.

Flynn doubled down on the potted plant comment, and was already offering to fetch more beers for the group of them as he disappeared toward the house. It left Jack and Sarah sitting alone in the muggy, humid air.

Sarah yawned. "So, what else happened at the Trials? Let's hear the whole story."

He'd given her the quick version—about he'd done well, Dominique had done well, they roomed together, he hooked up with a French girl, he'd played in the Premier Match, he'd talked to loads of representatives—but his recalling of the story was relatively no frills. He actually had something else weighing on his thoughts he wanted to talk about. Given that he had her undivided attention, perhaps he should bring it up.

He glanced over at her. Sarah was Dominique's best friend. If anyone knew about where her head was, she would. He started absently peeling the label off his beer bottle as he cast her and sideways glance. "Sar, can I ask you a question."

"One way to find out."

"So, at the Trials," he said as he sat up and leaned toward her. "There was this night where I got to talking with a very drunk Erin and Zara, and they told me that Nic…" he hesitated, "apparently fancies me."

Sarah immediately sat up straight, blinking more than normal.

"And I was wondering what you knew about it. If she's said anything to you."

She inhaled slowly, looking away toward a large wall at the back of the garden before focusing back at him. "Why would she tell something like that to Zara or Erin? This is Nic we're talking about. She doesn't talk about shit like that."

"She was also drunk," Jack offered. "But is there any truth to it?"

She stared at him. "I don't...Do you want it to be true?"

"I want to know what's true before I go thinking about what I want to be true."

The backdoor opened and closed once more, and Flynn was returning now with beers in hand. Jack watched him as he walked over, but his eyes drifted back over to Sarah. She seemed to be thinking things over, which was rather telling as far as he was concerned.

Flynn handed her a beer as she answered. "She never really admitted anything, though I've had my suspicions. I know she thinks you have sexy arms."

Jack immediately looked down at his arms, which were just...his arms. He'd never taken the time to think about them outside of being the two appendages that hung from his torso.

"How are arms sexy?" Flynn muttered, looking down at his own.

"Anything can be sexy on the right person," Sarah offered. "Some people like legs, or bums, or abs. Nic's really into arms." She glanced back at Jack. "She's mentioned a few times how she thinks yours are really nice. She's used the word sexy."

"What's so bloody nice about them?" Flynn asked, sounding confused.

"I mean, they're quite tone and muscular," Sarah offered. "Without being overly muscly and obnoxious. Comes with the Beater territory, I suppose. But I don't know, arms aren't my thing. They're Nic's. She likes Jack's."

Flynn was now inspecting his own arms for whether or not they fit some sort of sexy bill. Jack, in turn, flexed the muscles in his forearms a bit, not really knowing how he felt about this being an attractive feature. But if Dominique liked them...Did she really think they were sexy?

"That's all she's said to me though," Sarah said. "I swear. I'd have to ask her."

"You and Nicki are an interesting thought," Flynn said to Jack. "You two get along and have your little Quidditch club. Maybe you should try—?"

"You can't just try with your best friend's sister," Jack cut in. "Do. Or do not, There is no try."

Flynn laughed a little. "That's clever. You come up with that right now?"

"No," Jack said, "That's Yoda. That's Star Wars."

Both Sarah and Flynn stared blankly back at him, neither even pretending to understand what those words meant. It was Sarah who finally asked, "That's one of your Muggle film things, isn't it?"

Flynn was already rolling his eyes, and Jack chose to not even respond. Why did he even bother?

The backdoor to Flynn's house opened and shut once again, with Flyer Taggart appearing with some of his friends in tow. Flynn immediately stood to greet them, though Jack and Sarah stayed seated and mindlessly watched.

She suddenly turned to meet his eyes then. "If she does fancy you, how do you feel about that?"

Jack picked up his new beer bottle and swigged from it, not knowing how to answer that. He felt confused and conflicted, but also excited and interested. He didn't know if it was worth stirring things up—not only with Dominique, but also with Louis. She was his sister. She was...she was supposed to be a potted plant, too. But she was most certainly not a potted plant.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "It's complicated."

"Why?"

He threw her a look. She knew exactly why. "For starters, Louis."

Sarah nodded. "It would be a conversation you'd have to have, but let's pretend that he wasn't a factor."

"But he is a factor," Jack muttered as he let his head fall backwards and gaze up the clear night sky. "He's one of so many factors."


	7. Something Found

**Something Found**

* * *

**#34: Nuclear Bomb**

Falling for someone who was hung up on a complete fucking wanker was a really shitty feeling.

Falling for your friend who was hung up on a complete fucking wanker was so, so, so much worse.

This was how Jack currently felt in Charms class as he leaned his head on his fist and pretended to be paying attention to Flitwick as he droned on and on about...something? He didn't even know. He wasn't in the mood for Charms today, despite knowing he really should care. Dominique was sitting in front of him, her hair pulled back and exposing the nape of her neck. He really couldn't focus on anything else right now.

She'd gone back to Davies. She'd gone back and he couldn't even process in his head why she would have done such a thing. He'd never even gotten to talk to her about the rumors he'd heard at the Quidditch Trials or about how he felt about her before finding out from Louis and Sarah that Davies had shown up on the day they'd got back from France and apparently begged to be taken back.

And while he could believe Davies would do that—the slimy, fucking git—he couldn't believe Dominique had taken him back. She'd actually done it. Louis confirmed it the day just before they were set to come back to Hogwarts.

"Nic's not coming over tonight," he had said, having just arrived to greet Sarah, Jack, and Flynn in the latter's back garden. "Because she knows we'll tear her apart if she shows up."

Sarah had immediately groaned and Jack stood there bracing himself for the worst. The last he'd heard, Davies had turned up at their house on the day they were to all meet in Diagon Alley, but he'd hoped Dominique had told him to fuck right off. However, given Louis' defeated demeanor, Jack put it together rather quickly that probably didn't happen.

"Please don't tell me they're back together," Sarah muttered.

All Louis did was nod.

"What is wrong with her!?" Sarah exclaimed to no one in particular, though Jack felt a flash of red hot anger pulse through him. Seriously? What was she thinking? Why? He was suck a fucking arsehole and...and…

Without thinking, he took the beer bottle he'd been holding and chucked it with all his might against the back wall of the garden. It shattered everywhere.

"The fuck?!" Flynn snapped, turning on Jack. "There's going to be glass in all the bloody bushes! What is wrong with you?"

Jack said nothing as Sarah threw him an oddly sympathetic look. Louis had already stepped forward with his wand out and was casting a spell to repair the broken glass, telling Flynn to calm down while he did it.

Jack had been stupid enough convince himself that he and Dominique may have had something more. He'd started to believe the rumors and the moments that may have been more charged than he'd initially thought, but he'd been wrong. Completely wrong. She still fancied that fucker. She'd never got over him and taken him straight back, which was the most confusing part. Her not wanting him, Jack, he could believe—but going back to Davies? That was a punch to the fucking face.

"Piece of advice, Jacky. Don't waste away for a girl who clearly would rather hang around some tosser," his brother had told him. It had been after Jack had spent his last day before returning to school tracking Jiffy down in Manchester, visiting with him in a pub before he had to get back on the road with his band.

Jack stared at him. He'd been expecting something a bit more reassuring. Something along the lines of, " _You're a good bloke. She'll come around._ " But he really shouldn't have been surprised. Jiffy's idea of a proper relationship never went past a couple of months. He truly believed that there were plenty of fish in the sea; if one wasn't working, move onto the next.

"Seriously," Jiffy continued, now pointing his half empty pint glass at him. "She may be great or whatever, but my motto in life is to make things happen in the moment. She had her chance. She didn't take it. Cut her out of her life and move on."

"I can't cut her out of my life," Jack said. "She's one of my best friends—"

"Well, that's your first mistake. You should never fall for your friends. That fucks up everything."

"Too late now," he muttered. "Doesn't help that we're also Quidditch teammates."

"Even worse," Jiffy said. "Now you're risking your team on top of things. You're playing with fire."

"And—"

"And…?" Jiffy asked, looking at him as if he'd grown a second head. "What else can there be?"

Jack smiled despite himself. "She's Louis' sister."

Jiffy stared at him.

"His... _twin_ sister," he added a bit tentatively.

Jiffy reached up and began to slowly rub his eyes, as if Jack had given him a sudden migraine. "His twin fucking sister…I take it back. You're not playing with fire, you're playing with a bloody nuclear bomb." He then started making explosion noises.

He leaned back into his chair. "You can't help who you fancy."

Jiffy shook his head. "She's doing you a favor by being with some other bloke. Do you honestly have no other choices? You had to fall for your best mate's twin sister. The one who plays your broom ball game with you during a year where you can't afford to muck things up because your future career depends on it." He stared at him. "No girl is worth all of that trouble."

But as Jack sat there, staring at the back of Dominique's neck and ignoring his Charms lesson, he couldn't help but think that this girl may have been worth it. He'd never felt this way about someone before—wrecked at the idea of he being with someone else, happy just to be around her, practically giddy when she laughed at one of his jokes and paid him special attention. He walked into every room automatically scanning it to see if she was there, and he hurried along to make sure he was early to places he knew she'd be. He purposely made Quidditch practices longer so that it created more one-on-one encounters for them; his heart physically leapt when she always volunteered to stay behind and help him put equipment away.

He couldn't stop thinking about her; she'd even crept into his dreams in a way that made him pray and hope that Louis never started reading minds. These feelings were intense and a bit overwhelming. It was a constant struggle every day to just keep them in check because the one thing he couldn't do was act on them—any of them—because...she was back with Davies. She'd chosen him. Despite a few signs and signals that he was obviously reading wrong, she wanted that guy.

In that moment, Dominique turned around ever so slightly in her seat to look at him, as if attempting to see if he was paying attention. He forced his face to remain bored and neutral—and definitely not anything that would give away that he'd been staring at her neck for the last ten minutes—as she suddenly sent a small scrap of parchment sailing onto his desk.

He stared at it for a moment, trying not to get his hopes up. In a perfect world, she'd tell him she was a fool for taking Davies back, she regretted that decision entirely, she was going to chuck him as soon as possible, but not to worry. She actually fancied him and wanted to know if he'd like to have his way with her in a nearby broom cupboard after class.

But when he opened it, it simply read: _Are we doing practice before or after dinner tonight?_

That about summed things up. He circled the word 'after' before hastily sending it back her way, hitting her in the back rather clumsily. Flitwick didn't even have his back turned, so it had been rather brazen. She was looking at him rather sharply for being so blatant.

Oh well.

* * *

**#35: Pros and Cons**

Everyone at Hogwarts was eagerly anticipating Jack's eighteenth birthday. Not because it was his birthday mind you, but because October 3rd just so happened to be the day that the two champions from Hogwarts would be chosen for the upcoming TriWizarding School Tournament.

While the entire school was buzzing with the impending selection, Jack didn't care much. Unlike almost everyone else in his year, he hadn't entered. His first priority wasn't traveling the continent to face dark and dangerous magic, it was Quidditch. His entire future was riding on Quidditch right now, so that was where his energy needed to be focused. Not to mention, he didn't feel as though he was capable of pulling off some of the magic these tasks and challenges would have required of him. According to Louis and Dominique—whose mother had been selected for her own tournament back in her school days—you had to be terribly skilled and exceedingly bright just to be selected. There were about twenty people more likely to fit that role than he was.

Leading that charge was, naturally, Louis.

"Did you enter the Tournament, Louis?" asked one of Louis' little cousins—he had so many; Jack could barely keep track-after he'd approached him and Jack in the common room the day before the selection.

Louis shook his head. "Not yet, Freddie. I haven't decided if I want to or not."

"Why not?" asked Freddie, who for whatever reason was wearing sunglasses indoors in October. "Everyone says if you do, you'll get picked."

Louis laughed a little, glancing over at Jack. This was not the first time he'd heard this, Jack could attest to that. People were constantly telling Louis he had to do it; he was a shoo-in. Who else got better marks? Who was better with spellwork? Who was an actual Tournament legacy? He had to at least try. It seemed ridiculous not to try.

But Louis genuinely didn't seem to know what he wanted to do. He'd gone back and forth loads of times; Jack had been his sounding board on multiple occasions.

"Pros and cons," Louis said to Jack on a random night a few days prior, both of them lying in their separate beds and talking through the darkness. It was well after midnight, and Sarah was asleep on Louis' other side. Flynn's snores were filling the room and, only a minute prior, Louis had whispered over to ask if Jack was still awake. When he said he was, he'd rolled over to face him. "Pro: If I enter, I get to get out of Britain and see other places and schools."

"Con," Jack whispered back. "You're leaving Hogwarts during your final year. You can't get that year back."

"Noted," Louis said. "Pro, I get to represent Hogwarts and have loads of new and unusual experiences."

"Con," Jack offered. "You might get eaten by a dragon."

"Now you sound like my sister."

Jack smirked. That was Dominique's favorite go-to line about this tournament. She brought it up frequently and whenever the topic came up. She, from the moment it had been announced, had been decidedly anti-everything about it. She wasn't without reason—her mother had apparently gone through quite the ordeal; a boy had actually died last time—so it wasn't as if she were mad and being unnecessarily negative. She had no intention of entering, and she would harp on Louis at every opportunity to not think about doing it either. With that said, Louis was still thinking about it.

"Con," Louis suddenly said in an even quieter whisper than before. "I might have to leave Sarah back here if she doesn't also get picked."

"You would," Jack agreed. "Can't pack her in your suitcase."

"No, I can't…"

They were silent for a long moment, and Jack figured he might as well speak his piece before Louis took his sleeping potion and drifted off a minute later. He also firmly believed that if Louis entered this tournament, he was probably a shoo-in to be chosen. There were no better options, and he made perfect sense.

Truthfully, Jack really didn't want him to go. Sure, they weren't as tight as they'd always been given girlfriends, Quidditch, school, and life naturally weaving their way in between their once inseparable nature, but things were better when Louis was around. Moments like this—quiet chats in the dark, shared looks across the dinner table, laughs in the middle of class—Jack selfishly didn't want to lose that for their seventh year. They'd done the last six together, they were supposed to finish things together.

"Look," Jack said. "You've got so much going for you here this year. You're Head Boy. You've got Sarah. You've got N.E.W.T.s which you've been working toward since—"

"If I get chosen, I get automatic passes on my core subjects."

Jack scoffed. "Since when is an automatic pass something you'd settle for? You don't automatically pass anything. You work your stones off to understand everything there is to know, then you go in and crush that exam like no one's ever done before. That's how you've always…"

Louis sighed heavily. "I get it, but…" He again grew quiet for a long moment. "I'm tired of that shit."

"What shit?"

"Of the shit I'm supposed to do. Of what everyone expects of me." He sighed. "I get the perfect marks. I became Head Boy. I smile. I do everything I'm supposed to do so that I'll finish school and probably get some posh Ministry job where I'll…" He paused. "I'll…" He trailed off..

Jack couldn't see him in the dark, but turned to look over toward his bed and where he would have been. "But don't you want those things?"

"I thought I did. Yet here I am with everything and I don't feel particularly excited about any of it. It makes me feel as if I've been working toward the wrong goals. The goals everyone just expected of me."

Jack didn't say anything. This was honestly surprising to hear. Louis always seemed like he had it figured out. More than anyone Jack had ever known, Louis was the one who had a path and a plan and he'd been well on his way. But now it seemed as if he'd hit a bit of a bump in the path and he didn't know what to do about it.

"I just think it might be really cool to get out there and see things and meet people," Louis finally said. "I mean, my mum had the same urge. That's why she entered her Tournament. And yes, it came with its issues, but it also legitimately changed the entire course of her life. Some would say for the better. I mean, I wouldn't be here if she hadn't entered that Tournament." He paused. "What if my future children's existence rests on me entering this tournament?'

"That's a bit dramatic, mate."

"Maybe," he said, "I don't know. I just feel as if I should at least try."

Jack let himself think on that for a second, but ultimately muttered, "Your sister's going to kill you."

"What else is new?"

They'd left their conversation at that, and while Jack knew Louis still had plenty of time to go back and forth on the subject before the deadline, he wasn't surprised when he'd told him and Dominique the next day that he was going to do it. He really was going to try.

He also wasn't surprised when Louis' name came out of that Goblet that evening, right after Zara's had. The Great Hall had erupted into chaotic cheers for both of them, and Louis seemed genuinely pleased with himself once the recognition of the entire room fell upon him and he'd been ushered up front. Jack could sense he'd been anxious prior to the selection, but he couldn't be sure whether that was due to the fact that he suspected he was going to be chosen or—worse-that he wasn't.

Sarah and Dominique had fallen into glum moods after the selection; once they all headed back to the common room. Louis had been swept off to deal with his new responsibilities, and Sarah was now visibly anxious. Jack wondered if she was now remembering all the things Dominique had been speaking to for the last few weeks about death and dismemberment, because he knew he was. Dominique, however, was surprisingly quiet about Louis' selection. Jack kept changing glances at her to see how she was taking everything, but she seemed rather unreadable.

They'd all retired off to bed-or in Sarah and Louis' case, off to having a long chat-once the evening wore on, but Jack had stayed up later. With all of the action of the evening, he'd almost forgotten it was his birthday. It seemed so much more like Louis' day than his, but he'd had a few bright spots earlier in the day. His friends had got him a really nice Ballycastle Bats Quidditch jersey, Tommy had tracked down a package of bourbon cream biscuits—a Muggle treat, and his absolute favorite-and his parents had sent him a card and some spending money.

Jiffy had sent him a rather funny letter, calling attention to the fact that he had to actually write him a bloody letter instead of shooting him a text like the rest of the civilized world. He'd also included a Dairy Milk chocolate bar, adding that he was broke and that's about all he could afford, but "it's the thought that counts." He'd written " _Happy Eighteenth_ " and drawn a picture of a duck instead of signing his name; his P.S. instructed him to put the duck to his forehead and smack himself very hard.

It was with his package of bourbon creams that he found himself on his own, sprawled out across the one of the common room sofas, rereading his family's letters for the fourth or fifth time for something to go. He rarely got homesick these days, but something about the day and the change happening around him was making him wish he could have been home for the night. Granted he hadn't had a birthday at home since he turned eleven, but his mother always made a big deal about his and Jiffy's. Cakes, balloons, streamers. It didn't help that with each biscuit he ate, he could practically taste the comforts of home. It was just one of those days.

Movement in the direction of the girls' dormitory made Jack look up. Dominique, who'd gone upstairs ages ago after calling it an early night given her mood about Louis, was coming down the stairs in her pajamas. The common room had out by now, seeing as it was just before midnight. Outside of James Potter and some of his friends in the corner, and a lone girl doing homework at a table near the window, the room was empty.

"Couldn't sleep?" Jack asked her as she approached, having spotted him immediately.

She shook her head. "Not so much." She nodded toward him. "Why are you still up?"

He held up a biscuit as if toasting himself. "Figured I'd ring out my birthday."

"By yourself?"

He shrugged. "I came into this world alone. May as well."

She smiled a little. "I wouldn't know how that feels."

"How what feels?"

"Coming into the world alone," she said as she gestured to the other side of the sofa, where his feet were resting. It seemed she wanted to sit, so he pulled his legs up just enough to make room. She still plopped down nearly on top of them, though neither of them seemed to care much. "Part of a pair, remember? Buy one, get one free, if you will."

Even as she said it, her tone was distant and heavy. She was already staring straight into the fire, clearly preoccupied by her own thoughts. He could have asked her what she was thinking about, but he already knew. Louis and this tournament was already doing a number on her, and he hadn't even been a champion for more than a few hours.

He watched her for a moment before turning to look at the fire himself. There was no denying how close she and Louis were, or simply how much she cared about her brother. Louis cared about her too, but he never seemed as dependent on her as she did on him. Louis was never afraid to step out of that relationship and be on his own; Dominique had struggled with that for a long time. She still did from time to time, but this moment was telling. She was afraid, not only about Louis' safety, but for being on her own. It was why she'd gone straight to bringing them up as a pair a moment ago. That was what was on her mind.

Jack sighed and looked back at her. "If I'm being honest, I hate that he's leaving. It fucking sucks."

Dominique looked back at him, her expression curious. "You were all smiles and congratulations for him earlier."

"I'm not going to tell him that to his face," he muttered, now digging around in his package for a biscuit. "This is between you and me. It's our last year. God forbid I want my best friend around for it." He shrugged. "But that's me being selfish."

She was looking back into the fire, but was slowly nodding. "Yeah. Same." She took a deep breath and for the briefest of moments, Jack thought she might have been getting emotional. "It really does suck."

He switched gears immediately. He didn't want her to cry and she hated crying, so he said, "And you know, I've always wanted to see a dragon, but not necessarily at the expense of Louis getting eaten by one, so I'm sort of torn on how I'm supposed to feel about that—"

She laughed a little, shaking her head and never taking her eyes off the fire. "He's such a fucking idiot."

Neither of them said anything for a minute, though he nudged her with his socked foot just to attempt to break her hypnotic gaze into the fire. "Hey. He'll be alright."

She finally turned to stare at him. "You don't know that."

"I don't, but I refuse to accept the alternative."

* * *

**#36: Cockroach**

There was the feeling of being relieved, and then there was the relief that came from finding out that your best friend wasn't dead on a mountain after you'd spent the last twenty-four hours thinking he might be.

Jack had never had a longer day in his life. Everything had felt as if it were happening in slow motion—from hearing the first task of the tournament was to occur that evening, to worrying about what that meant for Louis, to him going missing, to losing an entire night's sleep over it, to being told he still had to play Quidditch the following day, to playing like shit and losing, and to then trying to pull together every spare scrap of energy he had to comfort Dominique during her inevitable breakdown. He wasn't doing well by any stretch, but if anyone was going through a tougher time than he was, it was her. He had to at least pull it together for her.

He'd found her crying in the Gryffindor Quidditch showers after their loss, and nothing about those tears had to do with Quidditch. They'd sat side by side together on the tile floor for ages; the water streaming down on them so that they were nothing more than a soggy pile of robes by the end of it.

It had felt right and oddly calming in the moment—the falling water, the silence, the shared feeling of dread and doom. It was as if there really wasn't a better place to be to process the idea that something very bad could have happened to Louis; that he may even...be gone. Jack didn't want to think it, and he refused to say it, but it had been nearly a day that he'd been trapped on that death mountain where no one could find him. The outlook was starting to look bleaker with each passing hour.

Honestly, what the fuck was he supposed to do if he was gone? Jack had never known anyone to die before outside of a few elderly neighbors or some distant family members he barely knew. No one he was close to; not his best friend. This wasn't supposed to be happening.

Thankfully, not long after they'd left the showers and returned to Gryffindor tower, they'd got the news that Louis was found and alive. When he'd heard, Jack physically exhaled as if he'd just been holding his breath for the last day. The common room was in a frenzy; the chaos of people celebrating mixed with his exhaustion made him feel as if he was suddenly walking through a very curious dream. Nothing felt real.

After getting what story there was to hear from an absolutely elated Sarah—her face puffy from happy tears—he'd immediately looked for Dominique to see how she was handling everything. She was nowhere to be found in the common room, and Sarah claimed she wasn't upstairs either. Jack had to assume she'd needed to be alone and maybe she'd left to do that, but he'd been hoping to see her if even for a second. They'd been through hell the last few hours and it felt wrong to be celebrating without her.

She was missing the following day as well, though at breakfast Natalie mentioned having seen her asleep in bed when she'd turned in the night before. "She must have got up early," she told Flynn and Jack in between bites of toast. "I seem to remember her mentioning something about going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"By herself?" Flynn asked.

Natalie shook her head. "No, I guess she was meeting Davies. She didn't really want to talk about it, but it came out when I asked if she ever saw him. She's had the plans for a while."

Jack could feel Flynn's gaze fall on him, but he purposely began intently examining his eggs. In all the madness of the previous day, he'd actually forgotten that at one point, Davies had turned up in the tunnel inside the Quidditch arena before the match. He and Dominique had been chatting, though she claimed they'd had a row and broke things off. Jack had let himself get excited for about ten seconds before she'd started speaking vaguely about the entire split—as if even she wasn't convinced it was really over.

Meeting Davies in Hogsmeade the following day was certainly not really over.

"Oh God, she's going to lose her mind," Sarah said later on, having spread the Daily Prophet out in front of the lot of them in the common room. She'd been reading all the coverage about Louis' ordeal, but had stumbled upon a quote from Davies in mix where they'd identified him as Dominique's "boyfriend" and asked him about how she was handling things.

"He ' _knows her really well'_?" Sarah quoted, reading from the paper. " _She's really emotional_?" She looked from Flynn, to Eleanor, to Jack—the latter of whom wasn't even attempting not to let his eyes roll back into his head. "She's had to have seen this, right?"

"I'm fairly certain she'd have come raging into the common room if she had," Eleanor offered. "And seeing as she hasn't yet…"

"She is going to kill him," Sarah whispered.

"Isn't she out with him now in Hogsmeade?" Flynn said. "Maybe that's what she's doing?" If we end up hearing he's gone missing without a trace, then we know who to blame."

"We'd never get that lucky," Jack muttered.

All three of them looked at him, their expressions seemingly surprised to hear that come out of his mouth. He shrugged and added, "I'm just saying, he's like a cockroach. It doesn't matter what he does, he'll somehow survive and they'll be right back at it tomorrow."

"Well, then, maybe _someone_ ," Flynn said, staring directly at Jack, "should say _something_ to her and maybe that wouldn't keep happening."

"Or maybe it wouldn't make any difference," Jack retorted.

"Or maybe it would."

"No, it probably wouldn't."

"You know," Sarah muttered, again scanning the article. "I think the cockroach may be on his last leg. I don't know if he'll survive this time." She looked up at them. "To Nic, this is bad. Really bad."

Sarah had been right. Dominique hadn't liked it—not one bit. She'd returned that night and denied she'd been at Hogsmeade with Davies, though she never did mention where she was all day. Jack knew she'd never admit it to him and Sarah if she was with him, but she did seem genuinely upset over the Prophet article. She had blown up over the Davies quote, got angry with Sarah and him for taking the piss, and stormed off on them before they could ask anymore questions.

Whether she'd spent all day with Davies on some date, Jack never knew; he did however see a shift in her entire attitude toward him in the days that followed. She seemed more adamant about how much she couldn't stand him; how she'd wasted far too much time with that "arsehole" already and she was done. He'd watched her in the common room compose a letter to him with no less than twenty "fuck you"s in it, and Sarah swore she personally saw her attach it to an owl's leg and send it off in the post. Unlike the other time they'd fallen apart, she didn't seem sad about it at all this time. She honestly seemed content, as if she'd shed herself of eleven stone of useless rubbish.

Still, it didn't change the fact that he was was a bloody, fucking cockroach.

"Would you fucking do something already?" Flynn had asked Jack one night as the two were readying themselves for bed.

They'd spent the evening in the common room attempting to push through their endless piles of homework, and Jack and Dominique had sat next to each other. With him being left-handed and her being right, they'd ended up situated in a way that they kept knocking elbows all night. It had become sort of a game—they'd started doing it intentionally, causing the other's other quill to slip—and they'd had their fair share of stolen grins and giggles throughout the course of the night.

It hadn't gone unnoticed by either Flynn, nor Sarah. Jack had caught both of them on at least one occasion watching them in an almost exhausted sort of way.

"What's the point?" Jack said as he pulled his trousers off and climbed into bed. "She most likely will end up right back with Davies."

"The point is that you try," Flynn said. "You shoot your bloody shot. You don't let her run back to that walking wankstick."

He found himself laughing at that as he let his gaze travel the ceiling of his four poster bed.

Flynn was quiet for a long moment, and Jack had almost thought that was that and they were both calling it a night. However, he suddenly added, "Sarah seems to be convinced she's fully done with him now. She was fucking irate with him after the Prophet article."

"She's always irate with him," Jack mumbled. "That's never stopped her before."

"You're purposely looking for a reason not to…" He began to say, though he immediately pivoted his thought. "You said it yourself that you two had that moment. On the night Louis went missing, you claimed you could feel _something_ serious between you two."

Jack continued to scan the ceiling. It was true, things had shifted lately, though not enough for him to feel confident in pursuing anything. And while, yes, they'd had a moment on this very bed where they'd held hands and he could have kissed her, that night didn't count. That night was rooted in the wrong kind of emotions. They were both scared and worried about Louis; their closeness was more out of a necessity to be with someone who understood, not necessarily a need to be with each other. It wasn't the time or the place. It wouldn't have felt right.

"I've told you that night was weird. Louis was missing. It wasn't real."

"Not real, my arse," Flynn said. "I saw the both of you tonight." He put on a fake, smarmy smile and made a swooning sound for effect; then he straightened back up. "She's always looking for excuses to touch you or be around you—"

Jack smirked a little to himself as he rolled onto his side and away from Flynn. She didn't need excuses. He'd happily comply.

"—which for her is...well, it's saying something."

He sighed. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Flynn certainly wasn't the first to notice or say something. Tommy spent most of Quidditch practice lately making blatant kissing noises whenever Jack returned from conversations with Dominique. Sarah had somehow perfected her ability to not mention him and Dominique directly, while always clearly hinting about them quite obviously. Erin Tanner frequently referred to Dominique as his girlfriend in a condescending way. Liam Pepperdine had claimed he'd heard a rumor the two of them were together from a group of Ravenclaw girls. Random people actually would shove down or move seats for them if he or Dominique approached the other—as if it were some unspoken rule they had to sit near each other.

Something had changed, Jack just wasn't entirely sure what or how. And if everyone else sensed it, perhaps Dominique did, too...

"I don't know, mate," Flynn said, his voice drifting further away, which made Jack feel he must have been getting himself settled in. "I think you should man up. You made the mistake of sleeping on it once. She can't go back to Davies if she's already moved on to someone new."

Jack didn't say it, but the words, " _Sure she can,_ " flashed through his mind. That would have been the worst part—putting it all out there, letting her know how he'd gone and fallen for her, and then having her essentially disregard all of that and go back to Davies anyway. He wasn't sure if he could handle that. Usually the girls he fell for came with far less baggage.

And far less ability to crush his heart into thousands of pieces.

* * *

**#37: Christmas Party**

"You can take her," Sarah had said to Jack one day at lunch, referring to Dominique and the Honour Club Christmas Party they'd been invited to that was taking place that very evening. "You can invite anyone you want."

This hadn't been a subtle suggestion during a private chat between the two of them, but rather a very deliberate statement made while Dominique was sitting right there listening. Sarah was apparently desperate for company outside of Louis that evening, seeing as the pair were currently having issues after his accident at Durmstrang. She apparently was hesitant to be alone with him, and was trying to convince him and Dominique to tag along as well.

The hitch was that Dominique couldn't go to the invite-only event unless she had a date with a member, which is where he came in.

"You'd said you'd come if you could," Sarah said to Dominique. "Now you can! Be Jack's date."

Jack stared at Dominique, who suddenly seemed very confused as to what exactly was happening. She didn't immediately say no, and if he were being honest, if she expressed an interest, he would take her. He had no desire to go to this notoriously dull party, but...if she was keen, he could be convinced.

"Do you want to?" Dominique asked him, her face blank to the point where Jack wasn't sure she was for or against this idea. But he also knew her well enough that if she was against it, she would say so. She didn't placate people if she really didn't want to do something.

If this happened, they would—for all intents and purposes—be on a date. An actual, real—or perhaps, not entirely, but mostly real—date. They'd have to dress up, and go together, and be each other's companion as they navigated all the horribly boring people and stale conversations. It would be terribly dull, but they'd be in it together. And lately, he could probably be convinced to watch paint dry with her if she asked him...

"I mean," he picked his words carefully. "I will if you do."

It had been agreed then, much to Sarah's delight, but now Jack had to consider that he had to go to a semi-formal party that evening, which meant he'd have to hurry after class to go and shower, find his robes, get dressed, and be ready for this...date. This date with the girl he'd fancied for months.

"What's all this, then?" Flynn asked, having walked into their room just as Jack had pulled the trouser part of his dress robes on. He was eyeing him curiously, as if wondering what he was dressing up was for.

"Honour Club party tonight," Jack said, now pulling on an undershirt.

Flynn pulled an immediate face. "I thought you said you wouldn't be caught dead at one of those again?"

"I did say that," Jack muttered as he slipped into one of his nicer shirts. "But that was before I...had a date."

"Oh, do tell," Flynn asked, his interest clearly piqued. "And who is the lucky lady?"

Jack smirked at him and hesitated before he got the words out. "Nic."

That had done it. Flynn actually pumped his fist in celebration before letting out a little cheer and now pointing rather enthusiastically at him. "You fucking manned up and finally did it. Finally asked her out. About bloody time!"

"Not exactly," Jack said, now buttoning up his shirt and explaining to Flynn the reasons for his date and the basic understanding that it wasn't entirely romantic. When he was done, Flynn didn't immediately speak. He was just staring at him.

"What?" Jack asked.

"But you're going to try, right?" he asked him. "You've got the set up, you've got the girl, you're not going to just let that go to fucking waste, are you?"

Jack shrugged as he pulled his robe over him. Truth was, he wasn't entirely sure what his plan was. He was going to read the room, read Dominique's behavior and tells, and he was going to respond accordingly.

However, he did have an image in his head where they were standing around the dimly lit room, the mood right, the air thick with their mutual feelings of attraction to each other and their shared desire for this to develop. He had hopes that she would touch him innocently to let him know she wanted him around and that this could easily turn into something more. He had a lot of hopes, but he wasn't sure about plans.

"I'm going to try," he said finally.

"You better," Flynn mumbled, glancing toward their door. "What are you going to tell Lou?"

Jack looked up at him. He honestly hadn't thought about telling Louis anything because, while he hoped it would develop into a romantic evening, it's purpose wasn't romantic. Still, Louis would have questions. He probably should have some sort of answer to offer him.

And when Louis had arrived ten minutes later to change into his own robes, he—like Flynn—had been surprised to see Jack dressed and ready for the party. It had barely taken him thirty seconds to ask Jack what had changed his mind and made him decide to attend.

"Nic really wanted to go and see what it's all about," Jack offered, watching Louis pull on his own shirt. "We'd got to talking about it and she seemed really keen. So...yeah. I thought it would just be easier to let her tag along."

Louis' expression seemed surprised. He didn't look as if he believed that for a second, "I can't see her begging to go to a party where she had to dress up. She hates dressing up."

Jack inhaled slowly. He hated lying, especially to Louis. He and Louis didn't lie to each other. But he obviously couldn't tell Louis the real reason Sarah had worked this date out, and he also couldn't tell Louis that he was secretly hoping his sister would come out of this fancying him. So, really, it was the only thing that made any sense.

"I don't know what to tell you, mate," he said with a shrug. "But she did."

Louis hadn't questioned it much after that, and Jack didn't draw attention to the fact. Instead, he chose to focus on Louis being in a rather spirited, decent mood—which was a rare sight to see since he'd come back from Durmstrang. It was great to see him laughing and griping about how dull the party would probably be. Even with all the presumed boredom, Louis seemed up to the task of going. He seemed ready.

Given Louis' mood, Jack had to wonder whether Sarah was overreacting to be worried about him being weird. He seemed normal, if not a little sleepy. Jack was happy for it, because if Louis was cool, then Sarah would be cool. If they were both cool, their relationship would be cool, which would free up he and Dominique's attention away from their friends and hopefully onto each other.

But that wasn't the case. Even Jack couldn't help but notice the immediate shift in Louis' mood when Sarah approached them before the party. She'd looked really pretty and outwardly anxious at the sight of her boyfriend, but Louis barely commented and mostly ignored her. This wasn't like Louis at all, who had never not been a devoted boyfriend. It was clear that Sarah wasn't imagining things when she stressed how strange things were between them.

Dominique had noticed it, too. She'd commented on it immediately the moment they'd entered the party, once Louis had been summoned to rub elbows with Ministry people who wanted his attention. A reluctant Sarah had followed, which created two trains of thought in Jack's mind. First, Sarah and Louis were not looking good; this was now obvious. Second, despite the otherwise depressing circumstances, he and Dominique had now been left alone together. If he wanted this to turn into a real date, then he needed to start turning it into something more resembling one.

She looked really lovely. He had long ago entered into the phase of his attraction to her where he thought she looked amazing whether in Quidditch sweats or pajamas, but when she made an effort...she was truly gorgeous. It always brought him back to that moment in her living room at Victoire's birthday party where he noticed—for the first time—just what she'd been hiding under the layers of clothes, the piles of hair, and that perpetual frown.

To see her dressed up in this green dress, her hair let down around her shoulders, looking confident and cool...Well, he was starting to wonder if he could even measure up. She honestly was way too attractive for him.

As soon as they were on their own, it started to feel like a real date. They'd kept close together and made the rounds of the room, chatting with their peers and guests alike and presenting rather...couple-ly. He'd grabbed them drinks, she got them food, they people watched and laughed. He'd managed a few light touches on the small of her back when they walked through a crowd, and she hadn't shrugged him off or made it seem unwelcomed. He seemed to be playing this right.

"Come on," she'd told him, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him away from a rather dull conversation that they'd accidentally stumbled upon featuring Ansel Baileymoore, Mike Ellison, and Jarvis Hardwicke about the pros and cons of thick ranged cauldrons versus medium ranged ones in modern potion making. She hadn't even wanted to stop to chat, but Jack had attempted to say hello and be polite after catching Mike's eye.

"I can't listen to them," she continued, still dragging him off by his wrist. He couldn't help but notice how close she was to his hand and wondering why she hadn't just taken that instead. "It's like all the smugness in the room got sucked into that one spot."

"Mike's not that bad," Jack offered, just as she'd finally stopped tugging and released him once they were across the room. "I've always liked him."

"When he gets on about 'elixirs this' and 'solutions that' he's insufferable," Dominique said. "I don't know how Ellibit's puts up with him. Quidditch Mike I can handle. Potions Mike…" She stuck out her tongue, which made Jack laugh a bit more than he probably would have normally. But it had the desired effect, because she smiled at him in a way that felt very much as if she'd been drawn into the moment. Their shared look was that much more charged now, which was exactly the goal of the night. He wanted her to look at him like that.

"Excuse me," came a voice, which Jack was ready to ignore, though Dominique chanced a glance at. It cut through their moment like a knife in butter, and Jack immediately hated whomever had caused it.

"Are you Jack Ians?" asked a balding man.

Dominique looked at Jack, though he was now busy attempting to place who this man with a dark bread and very blue dress robes currently was.

"Um, yes," Jack said, and the man was already reaching out to shake his hand and introduce himself.

"Cal Cauldwater," he said. "I'm with British and Irish Quidditch Association. I'm a senior scouting representative with the league, specifically in defensive positions and I've been watching you this season. I—" He pointed somewhere across the room, "was just speaking to Madam Hooch about you and she pointed you out in the crowd. I hope I'm not interrupting." He smiled between Jack and Dominique. "I was just hoping to introduce myself."

Jack looked at Dominique, whose face was blank. She'd visibly stiffened at Cal's comments, but gave no indication one way or another what she was thinking. That being said, it was fairly obvious what was going through her head.

Jack shifted a bit awkwardly, already knowing he needed to network with these types—his future was on the line, after all—but that wasn't the headspace he was in tonight. Tonight, he wanted to make something happen with the girl he'd been fortunate enough to get stuck on a date with. He wanted to talk mindlessly with her about their classmates' outfit choices; he wanted to make her laugh and have her smile at him. He wanted her to realize he was worth her time and they could have fun together; that they could do this all the time.

What he didn't want was for this Quidditch bloke to sit here and talk about his potential at the professional level in front of his date. The same date who he knew wanted these conversations taking place for herself and was beating herself up everyday because they weren't. Dominique already had a long history of resenting him for Quidditch goals she hadn't achieved—he didn't want this being added to the pile.

"Nice to meet you," Jack offered a bit half heartedly, though he immediately forced himself to put on a better face.

The talk turned to Beating and Bludgers, of goals and plans, for a good five minutes before Dominique—who'd been rather silent up until that point excused herself to get a drink. Jack tried to not watch her go; attempting to gauge whether she was upset with him while still discussing angles and trajectory statistics. He could only hope this hadn't cast a fatal blow to their evening. One where she would retreat into that resentful teammate spot as opposed to the smiling girl who'd been laughing at his dumb jokes all night.

"I think my obvious strength is in my ability to use both hands effectively," Jack was saying, just as Dominique silently reappeared beside him. Her nature was slightly antsy, but she looked to be attempting to quell that.

"Yes, we have noticed that..." Cal began, though Jack was only half listening. He threw Dominique an appreciative smile, thankful she'd come back and was putting up with this. She returned it out of habit, and while there was no ill-will that Jack could detect, he could also tell she felt out of place.

He reached down and let his fingers brush against hers, hoping to somehow silently convey that he wanted this to move along as much as she did, When she didn't recoil or move away, he let himself link their fingers together.

She let her grip strengthen and held his hand in hers. His immediate thought now that she couldn't be angry if she was holding his hand. She wouldn't have done that. They were still on the right track. Now he just had to shake this bloke and go back to the good time they'd been having before. That was what he really wanted to concentrate on.

Unfortunately, the rest of the night hadn't been that simple. Once on their own again, they'd found Sarah—who had abandoned her attempts to be around Louis—alone and looking depressed at a table. They'd gone to speak to her, where she'd lamented about all of her suspicions being correct. Louis didn't want her around. He'd barely paid any attention to her.

Jack saw Louis at the bar at that very moment. He was talking to Zara, and Erin, and Reggie Avery; all of them looking casual and chummy. For someone who was so bloody glum and tired around his girlfriend, he was quite chatty around these people.

"Hey, mate, can we talk?" Jack asked Louis rather bluntly, having appeared at the bar and cutting straight across the small group. "Privately."

Louis let his eyebrows narrow a little, probably due to the tone Jack had used. There had been nothing breezy or casual in the way he'd approached him, mostly because there was nothing casual about what was happening.

"What's up?" Louis asked once they'd stepped aside.

"You tell me," Jack said, looking him straight in the eye.

"Tell you what?"

"Why are you avoiding Sarah?"

Louis looked away, his eyes now purposely avoiding Jack's. He slowly drank from his glass before answering. "I'm not avoiding her. She went off on her own."

"And you let her?"

He laughed a little. "She's free to do what she wants."

"But you and I both know she went off on her own because things are awkward as fuck between the two of you. I just want to know what is happening because we're all confused."

"' _We're all'_?"

"Me, Sarah, your sister…"

Louis rolled his eyes. "So, this has been a topic of conversation?"

"Yes, you knob," Jack said sharply, finding himself annoyed with Louis' blase attitude. It was a strange turn of events because he rarely got annoyed with Louis. "You can't think no one's noticed."

"I've been going through some shit," Louis said, focusing straight in on him. "I don't know if you're aware, but I nearly died—"

"Oh, did you?" Jack asked, feigning surprise. "Hadn't heard. None of us knew that, Lou. Not a one of us."

Louis stared at him, looking as if that had been a smack to the face. Truth be told, Jack wasn't even sure where it had come from. Maybe it was because they'd all been really patient and supportive of him since he'd gotten back, but he seemed to want to throw this death thing in their faces whenever they tried to question his behavior. While Jack knew that almost dying obviously affected him, it didn't explain why he could laugh with a group of Slytherins one minute, but then be a dick to his girlfriend the next. It was starting to come off as him using it to make excuses.

"Look," Jack said, his tone calmer after feeling that he may have gone too far with that last bit. "You've just been really distant with Sarah lately and she's been upset about it. From what I can tell, you seem ready to chuck her."

Louis sighed.

"And if that's the case, then just do it," Jack told him. "Because Nic and I are tired of being this weird in-between space."

"No one asked you and Nic to be in between…"

"Sarah did!" Jack said. "You want to know the real reason I'm here tonight at a party I didn't want to come to? You want to know why Nic came with me? Because Sarah asked us so that she'd have someone to talk to when you inevitably started ignoring her."

Louis stared at him; he didn't seem to want to believe that.

Jack glanced over to where the girls were still talking. "Louis, I have your back. I'll walk through fire for you, mate, but I can't sit back and watch this anymore. Just...fix it or end it. Either way, get over there and talk to her."

Louis muttered something indecipherable under his breath before he drained his glass and slammed it on the table. "This isn't anyone's business…"

Jack had wanted to tell him that he'd made it everyone's business by acting the way he was lately, but he chose to keep his mouth shut as he led the way back over to the girls.

No one was exactly sure what to expect once Louis and Sarah were forced to put all of their business out in the open, but it was quickly realized that the answer was nothing good. Louis' dismissiveness against Sarah's argumentativeness created an immediate explosion. They barely even wasted any time before snapping at each other, and Jack decided then that he was going to do exactly as Louis had suggested earlier: He was going to separate himself from their business.

He'd turned to Dominique, who'd been watching the trainwreck in a rather horrified sort of way before turning that look onto him. "Do you maybe…?" He gestured to the dance floor, which was right beside them. "Want to go...over...there? Or, go over _anywhere_ else?"

She nodded immediately and stood. He'd just wanted an excuse for the two of them to walk away—not that either Louis or Sarah would have noticed—but now he was faced with the fact that they were reflexively walking straight to the dance floor. Apparently, they were going to dance.

Right. That was good. That meant touching. He certainly could get behind that.

It was awkward at first; before Dominique claimed to not know how to dance because she'd never done it before. Truth be told, he didn't really either; he'd never taken a lesson or anything. He just swayed a bit and put his hands where he was allowed, but that was apparently more than she'd done. He supposed they could use this to be a bit of a learning moment, but he was simply relishing the excuse to place his hands on her waist and pull her as close as she'd let him. He didn't really care if they did much else than that.

When they were this close, her eyes were as blue as the bloody sky and her skin was without a single flaw. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember her ever even getting so much as a spot in the years he'd known her. He had to wonder what deal with the devil—or the Dark Arts—her family had pulled to get the best possible genes ever. Seriously, they were almost unreal.

She kept smiling at him, which kept making his stomach swoop repeatedly. They bantered about Quidditch, they'd watched Zara and Reggie get told off for dry humping each other on the dance floor, they kept finding rather paralyzing moments where they would stare rather fixedly into each other's eyes. Even as one song ended and another kicked up, they kept dancing, his hand dropping a bit lower on her waist and her arms getting more snug around his neck.

She had to feel something for him; she had to. He was trying not to let his imagination run away with him, but the way she was holding him, smiling at him, staring at him...These were clear signs and signals. Any other girl, he wouldn't question it. He'd make a move and see what happens. But that was so much easier said than done with Dominique Weasley. Everything with her required so much more thought and courage. He found himself second guessing everything with her.

"I'm glad we decided to do this," he said in a low voice. They'd reached their closest point; if he spoke any louder, it would feel like he was shouting in her face. "The whole night."

"I am, too," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

She could ask him so many things right now and he would give it, do it, or try it. So many things. She just had to ask.

But she'd never got the chance to finish that thought, for Louis and Sarah chose that moment to make their dramatic exit out into the corridor; their relationship clearly falling apart before everyone's eyes. By stealing both of their attentions away, the intimate bubble he and Dominique had spent the last few minutes constructing—the bubble that had taken him months to finally work up the courage to pull her into—burst. Just like that.

* * *

**#38: Tattoo**

"Is that a duck?" a very drunk Louis asked, squinting onto Jack's inner bicep at the very new tattoo he'd acquired a half an hour earlier. The squinting had less to do with him carefully inspecting Jack's new ink, but rather that he seemed incapable of opening his eyes entirely. He'd been busy drinking in the couple of hours since Jack had last seen him.

"Shit, he's hammered," Jiffy said from beside Jack, both of them looking down at where Louis sat.

It had been a wild couple of days and Jack still wasn't sure how he'd gotten here. Louis, who'd admitted to cheating on Sarah and causing the entire relationship to inevitably collapse that night of the Christmas party—had owled him saying he needed a night out to get away. He wanted nothing more than to drink and lament about life and all the shit it had thrown at him lately.

Jack naturally stepped up for him; he'd accepted Louis' request to come visit him instead of the other way around. He'd have preferred it to be the other way around so that he could see Dominique, but now was not the time for that. He wanted to be a good friend. Louis needed him, and that superseded his desire to see her, which...well, that was another story all together.

But he was here to focus on Louis now; on being the good mate, the open ear for him to vent to, the provider of alcohol and distractions to dull the pain, just as Jiffy had been for him after his breakup with Jane. It was to be a good, proper night of drowning sorrows and Apparting to Belfast to watch Jiffy's band that night. That was the plan.

Or it had been before the plans quickly changed; once, after far too much drinking away of the sorrows, Jiffy suggested Jack and Louis tag along as they hit a few more gigs in the subsequent days. They could ride in the van, sleep on shitty hotel floors, eat rubbish, get fucked up every night, and watch the sun come up; they could live that vagrant, road trip life for a couple of days.

While Jack wanted nothing more than to spend time with his brother, he was hesitant given the sheer madness of the idea. That wasn't even taking into account the fact that Louis still was recovering from having nearly died weeks earlier. It didn't seem like the most wise of ideas, but Louis wouldn't hear excuses. He was game from the moment Jiffy suggested the trip. The idea of nothing being planned sounded amazing to him, and Jack distinctly got the impression he was going to go with or without him.

"It's not like we can't leave whenever," Louis had pleaded to Jack. "If it's shit, we Apparate home. Come on, mate. Let me have this. I need this. I need to do something different. Something unexpected. I just want to see things and go places."

"I think you're underestimating the shitty places my brother's band plays," Jack said. "There's really not much to see."

"I just want to get away," Louis said. "Far the fuck away. I don't even care where we go. I need something new. And I need you to come too."

He could tell Louis truly meant that, so with a begrudging sort of smile, he'd said, "Alright, fine," and agreed to the whole mad plan. After all, it was true. If it was awful, they could leave.

But it wasn't awful. , it was actually some of the most fun Jack had had in ages. His brother and two of his bandmates crammed themselves all into a conversion van and drove around from city to city. They'd visited multiple venues and pubs-he and Louis sitting in the back, watching the band and being stupid. They'd crammed into that smelly van to drive from place to place, they'd helped unload equipment without magic, they met strangers both cool and weird, they even camped in a field one night for reasons Jack was too fucked up to remember. It was madness, but it was spectacular madness.

He'd spent more time with his brother than he had in years, and he hadn't seen Louis look this happy in ages. He thrived in the unknown, not knowing where they would eat or sleep or be the next day. It was surprising considering he'd always been such an orderly and organized type, but he seemed freer now. Single for the first time in ages, no responsibilities, no one treating him like a Weasley, a champion, or a Head Boy. The freedom suited him.

"Yes, it is a duck," Jack said, looking down at the yellow duck on his arm—a nearly exact replica of him and Jiffy's cherished childhood weapon of choice. Jiffy had got the exact same tattoo, only on the inside of his forearm, and it had been a joint decision after the horrible discovery before Christmas that neither of them knew where the actual duck had gone.

It had somehow been misplaced around the house; after spending much of Christmas Eve in search of it—revealing to both of them how much that bloody bird meant—their mother mentioned that she had done a bit of cleaning of the cupboards recently to donate to the church. That had apparently included a load of toys that they clearly had outgrown; while she couldn't say for sure the duck had been in there, she also claimed she wouldn't have been surprised if it was.

"I didn't realize it was so special," she said, sounding remorseful once both Jack and Jiffy had a moment of horror at the news. They'd both taken the loss harder than you'd expect eighteen and twenty-one-year-old men to, but Jiffy had been determined to make it right.

"It'll be a memorial," he'd told Jack on the way to the tattoo parlor in Belfast where Jiffy, "knew a great bloke" who'd done all of his previous tattoos. Jack had talked about getting a tattoo one day, especially after watching Jiffy start his collection three years prior, but he had to admit that a yellow duck hadn't been what he'd had in mind for his first one. It didn't really scream 'cool' as he had hoped.

At the same, he couldn't think of something more fitting than to forever share that goofy, little, yellow bird with his brother. That duck represented over a decade of moments and memories, and seeing as he and Jiffy barely saw each other these days, it was a way to stay connected to the brother he genuinely missed terribly. Life was just pulling them into two separate directions.

"I can still whack you in the head with him," Jiffy had told him after both of them had gotten theirs. He'd then proceeded to take his forearm and feign smacking Jack upside the head. "Duck."

Louis was still blinking at the duck, not quite understanding the point of it. Jack wasn't about to get into it and instead took to sitting down across the outdoor table Louis was occupying. While Jack and Jiffy had gone off to get tattoos, Louis had hung back drinking. Jack had a lot of catching up to do.

"Did you save any for us?" Jiffy muttered as he also took a seat. Jack wasn't sure if he was talking about the mostly eaten pizza on the table or the bottle of whiskey that was currently hiding inside of a paper bag beside it.

"I didn't eat all that, the other lads helped" Louis said, his eyelids heavy and his speech slurred. He looked at the bottle. "I did maybe drink all of that." He started laughing. "I can't remember."

Both Jiffy and Jack grinned at him. Jiffy nudged his brother and suggested he'd get them pizza if Jack had a few quid to contribute. Jack gave him what he had in his pockets and watched as Jiffy ventured over to the nearby pizza shop, where his bandmates stood loitering and chain smoking outside.

"I can't believe you got a tattoo," Louis said.

"I've always wanted one," Jack said, now absently examining his duck. He'd been told he needed to keep it covered and protected for a bit to aid in healing, but he'd gone ahead and performed a quick charm he'd learned to speed the skin healing process. After years of facing open wounds on the Quidditch pitch, he'd actually become quite good at this one.

"Yeah, but wanting one and getting one are two different things." Louis laughed a little. "I also didn't know you wanted a duck."

Jack shrugged, letting his hand run up and down the now completely healed spot. "I didn't know I did either until I got it. I figure it's the first of many."

"Many? How many more do you want?"

"Not sure," he said. "A sleeve could be cool. We'll have to see."

Louis, who clearly had a case of the drunk giggles, seemed to find that both impressive and funny. "Make sure your next one is done by a wizard. You know they've got special ink that'll allow it to move."

"I'm not sure I want it to move," Jack said, now picturing his duck walking around and blinking. Shit, what if they worked it out so it could quack?

Louis had lazily rested his head on his hand, though something over Jack's shoulder seemed to have caught his attention. When Jack turned to see what he was looking at, two tables over a girl with dark hair smiled. She immediately went back to her pizza and typing away on her mobile.

"She's cute," Louis said, causing Jack to turn back around.

"Go for it," Jack suggested. It had been a very long time since he'd seen Louis Weasley in action.

"Nah, not interested," Louis said quickly. "But why don't you? You haven't been with a girl in ages. Seriously, when was the last time? That girl at the Quidditch Trials?"

"Uhh," he began, his answer deliberately slow. "I guess so..."

Technically, that wasn't a lie, seeing as Louis had been obviously alluding to the last time Jack had gotten off with a girl. He hadn't asked the last time he snogged someone, because the answer to that was…a little over a week ago. He, however, wasn't ready to admit that to Louis yet.

Despite it being the thought that consumed most of his free minutes, Jack still wasn't sure how to tell Louis that he'd fallen for his sister. He wasn't sure if he even should tell him that they'd shared a very steamy kiss on the same night he and Sarah had split up.

He had played that kiss over and over in his head a hundred time; each time wanting to kill Flynn for having walked in and interrupting it. The realistic part of him knew nothing could have happened that night since Louis was asleep in the next bed, but the more carnal part of him had started to imagine much more elaborate scenarios; scenarios that got him hard whenever he took the time to really fantasize about it.

But even without all the sexy fantasy elements, the actual kiss and how it happened—with Dominique turning up in his room looking for her brother, finding him asleep, and instead sticking around to talk to him, then snog him—made him inexplicably happy.

He'd thought he'd blown it earlier in the evening, after the two of them had become absorbed in Louis and Sarah's problems and gone their separate ways. Then Dominique appeared in his room—standing in that well-fitted Gryffindor Quidditch shirt he'd come to appreciate from the Trials—and it turned out he wasn't the only one who'd wanted their night to end differently than they'd left it.

"Alright, you win," Dominique had said to him after they'd gotten their arms tangled up together after a bit of play fighting in his room. She'd kissed him earlier, which based on that information alone, one would think he would be celebrating. However, it had been part of a last ditch effort to distract Argus Filch, and she'd come at him like a fist to the face. It had honestly just been really bad.

They both agreed on that, so it wasn't awkward. While brash and surprising, her methods had been effective; they did get into trouble, but things could have been far worse. It still didn't stop him from teasing her about it now, which in turn caused her to swat at him and instigate the play flight. Hence their now tangled up nature.

He'd smiled at her. That had been easy. Almost too easy. She never gave in that quickly—this was not the first time they'd gotten mixed up like this—but the mood felt different this time. When he met her eyes, he wondered if maybe that was the point. She usually didn't stop wriggling until she was free and attempting one last jab. This time though, she was just standing there, staring at him, her arms curled around his. She wasn't moving.

"Win, what?" he asked quietly, still holding onto her. Her face was inches away and he let his gaze flick down to her lips for a half a second before looking back at her. Even the way she was looking at him seemed to be willing him to do what he was thinking. He knew then that if he kissed her, she would kiss him back. He knew it like he knew his name.

He wasted no time tugging her toward him; she was already stepping forward to meet him. Then it happened. His lips were pressing against hers.

Their kiss was slow and it was sexy and it was...this was it. This made his stomach swoop into his knees; this overwhelming feeling of desire that now forced his heart to beat against his ears. He didn't even think about what he was doing because he couldn't, he'd just let his instincts take over. When his mouth moved, hers followed perfectly; when he opened up further to let his tongue move into hers, she did the same thing.

They pulled apart after a minute just to look at each other; the smiles came easily and automatically. She actually looked a little flustered and didn't seem to know what to say. It was rare to see Dominique not have something to say.

"If that's what winning gets me," he finally said, breaking the silence and already pulling her back toward him. "I need to win more.

Everything ramped up this time—tongues went deeper, lips moved faster, hands were now roaming more freely. His new, but expected, erection was now pushing up against the thin fabric of the pajama bottoms that he was wearing. He was torn between trying to hide it because he didn't want her to be put off by how quickly that had happened, but also wanting her to notice because it was her fault. She'd caused that physical reaction in him. He still wasn't sure if she'd take that as a compliment, so he opted on trying to keep it contained.

He wanted her to know how much he enjoyed this, how much he wanted her; how he not only wanted to take her right then and there, but that he was starting to realize his feelings for her were so much stronger than he'd understood before. It was as if kissing her had taken his crush and attraction and elevated it to a level he'd never felt before. A euphoric level where everything was right in the world as long as this—this right here—never stopped. It was a bit scary, but in a good way; in an exciting way.

"I can't stop thinking about her," Jack had told Jiffy on the first day they'd been reunited after returning home on holiday. "We've been friends for ages, but ever since she kissed me…"

"Yeah, you're in deep," Jiffy said, the two of them sitting casually at the kitchen table over lunch. Well, it had been Jack's lunch; Jiffy's breakfast, seeing as he hadn't woken until after noon. "Have you told her how you feel?"

Jack threw him a look. "Not in so many words, but the kiss clearly—"

Jiffy shrugged as he sipped on the cup of tea he'd fixed for himself. "Kissing never 'clearly' does anything. From experience I can tell you that I've snogged loads of girls I have never had a single feeling for."

"No, I understand," Jack said obviously. "I have too—I mean, not loads—but this kiss was different. This is what the songs are written about, the films are made about…"

Jiffy snorted a laugh. "Oh, boy. Here we go…"

"Fuck off," Jack muttered, watching as his dad chose then to walk into the room and head straight to the refrigerator. He threw Jack a reproachful look as he pulled the door open.

"You better not let your mam hear you," he said as his head disappeared behind the door, clearly in search of something.

Jack offered up half-hearted 'sorry' before Jiffy quipped, "He can't help it, Dad. Your boy's in love. All reason goes out the window then."

His father shut the refrigerator door with a snap. "Oh, is he?" Jack let his eyes narrow rather threateningly on his brother. Jiffy did nothing more than smirk.

"And who exactly are we in love with?" asked his father, taking one of the vacant chairs at the table as he proceeded to open up a fizzy drink. "A girl from school, I assume."

Jack sighed.

"One of his Quidditch teammates," Jiffy said to him, seeing as Jack wasn't attempting to fill the silence. "They've been friends for some time. They've done a bit of kissing, but don't you worry—nothing Father Patrick would feel too scandalized by."

Their father immediately rolled his eyes, and Jack found himself unable to stifle his laugh despite feeling a bit mortified that this was even being discussed so casually.

"And," Jiffy continued, "from what Jacky tells me—or rather, waxes poetic about—she's apparently gorgeous."

"I don't wax poetic," Jack protested, though his father was already humming in an amused sort of way.

"They always are when you're in love," he said.

"No, she actually is," Jack said, staring down at a point on the table top. "Her whole family is. I mean, you've met Louis—"

"That kid is too handsome," Jiffy said "It's unnatural to be that…" He made a waving gesture toward his face, which didn't explain anything, though Jack knew exactly what he meant.

"Well, she's his sister," Jack said to his father. "They're twins. And while they don't really look alike, she's even more attractive than he is. The prettier female form."

"That just so happens to be my favorite form," Jiffy joked, though Jack noticed his father was staring at him with increasing concern all of the sudden.

"And what's Louis think about you carrying on with his sister?"

Jack knew exactly what he was playing at, and he knew that him not having a decent answer was going to potentially earn him a lecture he was not in the mood for. "He's currently...unaware."

There was 'the look.' The talk came next.

"I already warned him," Jiffy told their father. "Doesn't want to listen."

"To be fair," Jack immediately interjected. "There hasn't been much 'carrying on'. The kiss only just happened the night before I came home. I haven't even spoken to _her_ about it. What's to say to him?"

"How about," his father said plainly. " _I fancy your sister, and I wanted you to know. You're my best mate, and I respect you enough to tell you so you're not blindsided_."

"Nah, I think I'm with Jack," Jiffy offered. "For all you know, it ends where it did and nothing more happens—"

Jack made a face. That was an awful thought. It couldn't end yet. It had barely even started.

"—and if that's the case, why say something?" He looked back at Jack. "Now, if this does turn into something, you should tell him before you get serious."

"You said he's in love," argued his father. "This already is serious."

"Serious for _him_ , maybe," Jiffy said. "But it's not serious for all parties unless she's on board too. If she's not, then it's Jack being a creepy git and nursing some unrequited crush—"

"Ok, hold on," Jack interjected. "It's not a creepy—"

"You should tell Louis," his father reiterated. "I'm not saying you need his blessing, but wouldn't it be nice to know he was fine with the idea of it all? The alternative seems dodgy."

Jack started at both of them. Telling Louis about Dominique was at the top of his list; he wasn't going to keep it a secret like Louis had with Sarah, or even Victoire had with Ted. But he did firmly believe that he had to have something to tell before opening that box. A kiss—as sexy and as handsy as it was—wasn't that.

He would tell Louis. He wanted to tell Louis. In fact, as he stared at the half-asleep, clearly drunk off his head Louis sitting across from him over that empty pizza box, he felt an inclination to lay it all out there now. This was mostly driven by the fact that he was certain Louis wouldn't remember anything, but at least he could claim to have told him.

"Truth is," Jack began as a car alarm started going off down the street, catching Louis' attention rather raptly. "I'm not looking to meet anyone. I'm sort of...talking to someone already."

Louis was shutting his eyes, the alarm noise evidently irritating him. "Fuck, that's grating."

Jack barely paid attention. Car alarms barely registered to him much these days. "Did you hear what I said?'

"Huh?" Louis asked, opening his eyes, though just barely.

"I was telling you how I'm...There's this girl that I'm trying to work something out with."

Louis nodded. "Oh. Right. Yeah. Cool." He didn't seem interested in the least, which meant he truly was that drunk.

Well...He'd gone this far.

"Yeah, it's your sister," he said loudly since the car alarm was still going. "I think I'm in love with your sister."

Louis again turned to stare in the direction of the car alarm. "Why do Muggles have those noisy things? If someone's nicking that car, no one gives a shit. Everyone's ignoring it." He started to chuckle. "An anti-theft spell would work wonders, though..."

Jack sighed. "Yep. I'm in love with your sister," he repeated lazily, knowing now he could say it a hundred times and Louis wouldn't care.

Louis suddenly met his eyes, and for a brief—and rather terrifying second—Jack assumed he'd understood him. But Louis quickly dissolved into more laughter before saying, "Cool? I love my sister, too. So what?"

Jack smirked. Well, here's hoping the next time Louis and he had this conversation, Louis' reaction would also be an unsurprised and rather bored sounding, " _Cool. So what?_ "

* * *

**#39: Open Mind**

Jack looked up and down the rows and rows of library books before he turned quickly down one of the last aisles. It was the final row before the restricted section, and it tended not to get a lot of foot traffic due to the nature of the books being about more obscure subjects that were meant for specialize study. He quickly caught sight of the spine of a very large book called " _Occlumency for the Open Mind_ " but ignored it since he's already spotted what he'd ventured down here for in the first place.

Dominique smiled at him. She had been browsing the shelf rather unconvincingly for a book, but she was doing about as good a job as he was in pretending to care what was there. She'd already given up and turned to face him as he approached.

"Hey," he said as he swooped in and put his arms around her, kissing her immediately. She'd returned the gesture by barely mumbling out her own, "Hey" against his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer.

He lived for these moments lately. The two of them had definitely progressed quite a bit since the night of the Christmas party, though not nearly as much as he had hoped. Given Louis and Sarah's breakup, he and Dominique were often forced to take sides between the two like the children of divorce. The irony was not lost on Jack that he'd had the last seven years to hang out with her whenever he wanted, but now—only at this moment in time—were they being separated by outside forces. Right when they wanted to spend all of their time together.

With Quidditch on hiatus due to weather, they unfortunately only managed a couple of times a day to sneak off and somehow get in a few minutes of uninterrupted snogging. While this was his favorite part of the day, he wanted more. He wanted to do this whenever they wanted.

Unfortunately, there were too many obstacles at the moment. Louis, being the biggest, seeing as Dominique had expressed an interest in keeping things quiet until he left for France the following day. Her reasoning being that she wanted to see what this—their relationship—was before declaring it. And while Jack had reservations about that since the Weasleys had a habit of keeping their relationships secret for longer than necessary, he did see her point. He honestly just wanted to make her happy, and if that meant giving it a few weeks to become something more real, he'd keep things quiet.

Plus, it wasn't as if people didn't know. Flynn was well aware, often shooting Jack funny smirks when he watched him and Dominique talking. Sarah and Natalie knew, both of them watching him and Dominique carefully, as if trying to catch them in the act of something sweet. They probably witnessed very little, seeing as Dominique was masterful of keeping things strictly platonic looking whenever it wasn't just the two of them. At least twice, Jack had wondered if that was just how she handled herself in relationships, or if she really was only doing this to keep their secret alive.

But when it was just the two of them, things were perfect. He couldn't get enough of her, he never wanted to stop kissing her, touching her, being with her. He wanted them to take things out into the open so that everyone knew how he felt.

Dominique pulled off his mouth and started kissing down his jawline and onto his neck. He stifled a small groan because despite how amazing this felt—and how much he wanted her to never stop—he knew where she was prepared to take this. He knew how badly they both wanted to revisit even just a minute of what had happened in her room on New Year's Eve.

That had been the night. That night was forever going to be burned into his memories as one of the best nights of his life. He'd gone to her house specifically to see her. Ballycastle had won in Quidditch against Puddlemere United, and none of the family members that his parents had invited over for the evening could ever possibly understand how important that was. None of these guests understood him, full stop, so he didn't feel bad leaving in the middle of the evening to Apparate over to the Weasleys'.

He'd been worried she'd been angry with him, seeing as he'd promised to come visit sooner before his trip with Jiffy and Louis had changed things. While she certainly hadn't been thrilled by it, she didn't seem to hold any real ill will. She'd been a bit chilly at first, but she'd come around the more they talked that night. And the more they talked, the more everything changed.

"What's a 'cyu'?" he'd asked her, sitting across from her on the floor of her sitting with some Scrabble-like magical board game between them. She'd been being secretive a moment earlier and was working out a message in letter titles on the board for him to read. When she finally let him see, she had spelled out, "Ifancyu."

If an cyu. He didn't understand. What did that mean?

"What's a...what?" she asked him after he'd inquired, her voice a bit anxious.

"A 'cyu.'" He pointed at the board before saying, "'If an cyu.' I don't get it."

She was staring at him like he was an idiot. What had he said? She glanced down at the board and then up at him once more. "Seriously?" She started moving tiles around; separating the I and the U, throwing other tiles off entirely. "I assumed you could read."

"I can read," he muttered. That was the thing about her and Louis, they took advantage of the fact they understood magical culture so well and knew all of these obscure words. He couldn't always keep up. "I just don't know what a 'cyu'' is because I don't know every wizarding—"

She'd sat back up, allowing him to get a good look at the board now. After moving everything around, he saw that his mind had put together the wrong three words before. It wasn't 'If an cyu' it was 'I fancy u.'

Oh…She fancied him. She was telling him…

Oh.

"Yeah," she said. "That."

It was almost as if the world had legitimately stopped in that moment. Had she actually admitted…? Had she confessed her feelings in an entirely uncharacteristic, but undeniably adorable way? Had she done it before he'd got the chance to? He'd assumed he was going to have to be the one.

He looked back at her, her face nervous and her movements now fidgety. She was shaking her knee slightly, obviously anticipating a response. Well, shit how could he top that?

He glanced down that board, knowing he had to say or do something. He may as well take a page out of her book and—quite literally—spell it out. That had been sweet. He spun the board around and started rearranging tiles, specifically searching for the letters to spell out the word 'too.' He'd placed them down at the tailend of her message and spun the board back to her, smiling as he did so.

He fancied her, too. And now she was well aware.

Their sweet little confession had inevitably led to some snogging right beside that board game—snogging that grew hot and heavy faster than Jack was used to. The last girl he'd confessed his feelings for had been all for hand-holding and quick kisses for the first month or so of their relationship, but with Dominique, she threw herself right in. Not that he was complaining—she was all he wanted in whatever way she'd let him—but it did show just how much he and his relationships with women were changing since the last time he'd cared about a girl.

Outside of the girl at the Quidditch Trials, who had taken full control of their encounter, the girls he was used to had always been more passive in these scenarios. They liked him to push things, to take the lead, to set the pace. They had amounts of time in their heads for when certain acts were acceptable; he remembered overhearing Jane early on telling Victoire that you had to work up to things—she'd been referring to sex stuff—with someone you've been dating. You couldn't just do stuff straight away or else people would get ideas.

He'd been supportive of that; he'd even believed it when he was younger, thanks to residual church teachings where he'd been told he needed to wait until marriage to do anything. But now that he was older, he had to wonder who these 'people' were and what 'ideas' they would have? If a couple wanted to be together straight away, what business is it of anyone else's? But perhaps it was easier for him to think that as a guy because no one cared what he did. It was true the girls tended to be scrutinized about that stuff more.

However, Dominique didn't care—not that she ever cared much about what people expected. He'd known that since before he fell for her that she wasn't the type who would beat around the bush. She'd always told anyone who would listen back when she and Davies were shagging that sex was just a fun activity people liked to do, and why deny yourself the fun? Sex was never a goal for her, it was par for the course. If two people wanted to do it, then they should do it.

Still, when the two of them ended up in her room, clothes flying off, mouths running all over the places; him finding himself legitimately confused as to how he'd finally got himself into this position—naked, propped above her, staring down at her perfect face that was attached to her perfect body—he almost didn't know what to do.

He'd got her off minutes before and she had just stopped wanking him off to signal to him that they could have sex if he was keen, which...that blew his fucking mind. A few hours ago, he hadn't even known how she felt about him. An hour ago they were being cute and confessing their feelings over a bloody board game. Now she was telling him that she wanted him; she wanted to move this along; she was moaning when he touched her.

This was so different from anything he was used to. An insanely beautiful, sexy girl wanting him, wanting him inside of her right then, actually fancying him—he'd never been that guy. Louis was that guy; that was the closest Jack felt he'd even come to that sort of thing, but this was happening now. He was already sliding himself between his legs, guiding himself into her, which…

Holy shit.

He tried not to think of the last and only time he had sex, where it had been stressful and Jane had cried those unhappy tears; how they'd stopped quickly afterward. He hadn't had the chance to enjoy it because neither of them had found it enjoyable from the second they'd started.

But this time, he instinctively closed his eyes and relished that this already felt right. This felt so bloody incredible before he'd barely even moved. And she wasn't crying, which was great! In fact, she'd made this throaty moan of a noise once he was all the way in that very well could have put him over the edge right there.

He wasn't going to last long. He knew that. Just...please let him last long enough that he didn't embarrass himself. He really didn't want her to write him off terrible at this even though he probably was. He'd never really done it and was essentially virgin-adjacent.

He'd managed to hold it off a minute longer than his body wanted to; while he knew he hadn't blown her mind in the same way he'd blown his load, she was smiling sweetly at him afterwards and seemingly content with how it had turned out. For a first time effort, he'd done alright; at least he'd made sure she'd got hers. They clearly needed to practice and get more in sync with each other; practice makes perfect after all. Maybe they should practice all the time…?

But since that night, they hadn't had a chance to practice. They hadn't had more than a handful of minutes to even snog. Though, that was more on Jack's end than hers. Dominique was always trying to push things…

At that exact moment, after she'd backed Jack into a bookshelf with her mouth still on his neck and driving him absolutely mental, she suddenly let her hand graze his very erect cock through his trousers. She did that on purpose. She always did that on purpose.

"You're killing me," he moaned, then working her mouth back onto his as he readjusted himself through his trousers.

She pulled away and smiled at him. "Good. That's the plan. I'm hoping to drive you to a place where you'll finally give in and let me have my way with you."

He sighed, but it was a happy sort of sigh. The sort of sigh born out of a place of frustration at wanting nothing more for her to do that and bliss that she'd actually said the words out loud. "I want you to have your way with me." He started running his hands up and down her torso. "That's all I want. You know that."

"You have—" She moved forward, both kissing him and grabbing him firmly through his trousers at the same time, "—a funny way of showing it." She pulled away and glanced down at her hand. "At least this part of you gets it."

He groaned as he kissed her once more, both loving and hating every minute of this. It had nothing to do with her or what she wanted to do to him, but Jack was not into the whole public sex act thing. He'd never...no one before him had ever bothered to try. Everything he'd ever done was private.

But Dominique had done a lot of things more publicly. Her and Davies had been in many places around the school—specifically the Quidditch arena, and apparently it had birthed a bit of a thrill in her at being more exposed. She loved the idea of messing around in places where someone could walk up at any point.

Though, and the irony was not lost on Jack, she was currently looking to keep their fooling around a secret from people.

"If I listened to everything it—" He gestured to his crotch, "—wanted to do, I'd never get anything done," he said, just as Dominique released him and backed away to straighten her robes.

"I'd have blown you right here if you weren't so paranoid," she said with a funny sort of smirk as she ran a hand through her hair.

"In the library? Where Pince—where anyone—could walk up?"

She shrugged. "That's part of the thrill. Give Pince a show." She stared at him. "You know, I'm going to have to make it my mission to get you to let me do this somewhere—" she made air quote with her fingers, "'risky.'"

He smiled at her. "You're obsessed with this idea."

"Because I find it hot and I want to corrupt you," she said, the smile on her face now making him want to throw all caution to the wind and take her straight up on her offer right now. "I've told you I like the thrill of it all. It's sexy."

"It can be sexy in private, too," he said as he walked over to kiss her again. They both let it linger for a long minute before she finally pulled away.

"It can be both," she offered. "And if you get over that initial bump and just let me do all the work, you'll enjoy it."

Jack laughed a little. "I can't believe I'm standing here trying to discourage you from talking me into a blowjob."

"Right?" she said, throwing him a look. "You're the weirdo." She reached out and tugged the front of his robes. "Tell you what. I know Louis leaves tomorrow and we have plans to finally spend the night together, but how about a preview?"

"A what?"

"We're back to Quidditch tomorrow," she continued. "Can I convince you to maybe show up a bit early? I know some mostly hidden places..."

Hearing her talk about showing up to Quidditch practice early to fool around immediately made him think about Davies and how she and him had probably marked most of the arena in their fits of passion. He didn't seem to find that as sexy as she did. "Right. The same places you went and messed around with…?"

"There are loads of places," she interjected. "In fact, one I've always wanted to try but never could before."

He stared at her.

"Our changing room."

"You want to...in our changing room?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Never could before. It's always been a bit of a fantasy of mine. Maybe after a particularly amazing win. Or a grueling practice. Then getting taken right then and there."

He laughed. "Seriously?"

She pushed him back a little. "Piss off. Yes." She raised an eyebrow at him. "And you shouldn't be laughing, you should be taking notes."

"I am," he said, forcing the laughter out of his system. "Right. Changing room. Noted."

She rolled her eyes as she turned to walk back down the aisle. "I need to get you out of your own head."

She seemed annoyed, and he really hadn't meant to take the piss. It was more of a nervous sort of reaction since she really did seem so much more experienced and carefree and cool about this sort of thing. He didn't feel any of those things and had his hang ups, but he wanted her. He was willing to try things for her.

"Hey, Nic," he said, catching her before she rounded the corner. "I'll come to practice early tomorrow if you want me to."

She stopped and turned around to look at him, a smile already playing on her lips. "Really?"

He nodded and smiled. "What kind of idiot would I be if I turned you—" He walked over and leaned in to kiss her, "down. But…" He looked at her. "Where in the changing rooms? What if someone else comes down to practice early?"

"Showers," she said without hesitation. "It's always private back there. Who goes back there?"

Seemed a fair middle ground. Private enough for him to be comfortable; exposed enough for her to be excited. He nodded. "Alright. It's a date."

"No," she countered, smirking as she said it. "It's a preview."

* * *

**#40: Appreciation**

"Natalie was really excited this morning," Flynn was blubbering on after their morning Herbology class; once Sarah and Natalie had disappeared in the opposite direction to their Divination class. "Did you see her face?"

Jack tried to ignore him. This was Flynn's first free minute to brag about the impressive amount of roses he'd got Natalie that morning for Valentine's Day. The problem was, Jack had absolutely no interest in listening to him.

"Good for you," Jack muttered. The entire subject of Valentine's day—the roses, the gifts, the entire day in general—he was already irritating the shit out of him. This was especially true after breakfast, where he'd got to witness Dominique receive about a hundred roses and gifts from random gits from all over the country.

He couldn't even claim they'd broken up, because she'd made it very clear they were never together. He'd assumed—hell, he'd believed her—when she said she wanted to take things slow and adjust to a real relationship; that she actually needed time. After all, she was only used to fucking wankers like Davies, so it clearly was an adjustment for her to move on to something normal.

But that had been a load of absolute tosh. Not even a few days after she'd told him that, he'd discovered her at the Ministry chatting with Davies on the first chance she'd got. They were even holding hands.

He'd never felt an emotional crush of pain like that before in his life. He'd had his heart broken before—the girl he'd fancied in primary school when he was seven told him she "didn't like him like that" and that had hurt. His breakups with both Jane and Holly had hurt. But this...this was...He understood now why people said it felt as if your heart was ripped in half, because that was the only way he could describe the pain he'd felt in the Ministry that day.

Sarah had been standing beside him, both having returned from their courtroom tour at the end of their Ministry day. Flynn and Natalie had stopped to have a quick snog somewhere in between, but he and Sarah had gone on ahead. They'd been commenting on the statues in the Fountain of the Magical Brethren when Sarah had gasped and stopped in her tracks rather abruptly.

"What's the matter?" Jack had asked, turning to see what she was looking at. As soon as he did though, he'd wished he hadn't.

Dominique and Davies having a bloody coffee date over near the cafe. She must have got wind of them starting because she'd immediately ripped her hand away from him and proceeded to move. But the damage was done. It was too little, too late; Jack already felt his heart rip, his stomach churn, and his urge to either be sick or walk away as fast as he could overwhelming him.

"Jack…" Sarah finally said in a gentle, pitying sort of voice. He could feel her eyes on him.

He looked away. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't look at anyone, especially not at Dominique. He wasn't sure what her plan was after being caught, but if she dared walk over here right now, after...that, he'd have to walk away. He couldn't talk to her. He couldn't even look at her.

He could vaguely remember Flynn and Natalie rejoining them before they left, and Sarah immediately telling them everything. Natalie had gasped as well while Flynn grew angry and started calling Dominique names that five minute earlier, Jack would have punched him in the face for. As it was now, he didn't care...He didn't care about anything. He didn't feel anything. He was completely numb.

Dominique didn't attempt to speak to him at the Ministry or even once they got back to school. That had been all he'd wanted at the time, but he quickly grew annoyed by how she didn't even bother to defend herself. She didn't even try. It was as if she knew she'd been exposed and had no defense whatsoever. She wasn't even going to attempt one.

The worst part was that he'd known this was likely to happen. _He'd known it_. Davies was like this incurable disease to her and she never seemed to be able to shake him. Obviously he'd try to weasel his way back in; obviously she'd fall straight for it. He was a stupid idiot for thinking otherwise; he was so stupid for having believed for a moment that she actually cared about him as much as he cared about her.

"I don't even know what to say," she'd finally said after coming to his room to find him, "but it wasn't what it looked like."

"Never is," he said coldly, staring at her sitting across from him on Louis' neatly made bed. She looked upset, and for a flash of a second he felt sorry for her. Just for a flash, though. That was all he had to spare since he was too busy processing the other ten emotions coursing through him at the moment; the ones that were barely allowing him to keep it together now that he was forced to confront her.

She'd made loads of excuses, and while he wanted to believe her, he knew that was the part of him that was in love with her. The rational part of him knew he was just asking to be proven wrong again; made a fool of. She'd done exactly what he'd always been afraid of and proved that as long as Davies was in the picture, she couldn't get over him. He'd been a fool to think otherwise.

He had tried his best to forget about it all and move on, but that was easier said than done. Dominique was such a part of his life that there was rarely much of an escape from her. In most of his classes—she was there. Quidditch—she was there. Common room—she was there. Around their friends—she was there. He really should have learned from Louis and Sarah that you shouldn't attempt to date your closest friends, but he had to learn that the hard way.

After two weeks of distancing himself from her, he truly thought he was getting a better grip on handling things. Until that very morning when Valentine's Day was on full display. The morning post had brought her gifts and deliveries from stupid wankers from who knew where, all of whom only knew of her from the paper. It had caused a bubbling sort of anger to brew inside of him since they didn't even know her. They didn't care about her. They needed to fuck right off.

"Yeah," Flynn had continued to say—Had he been talking this whole time?—as the two continued to walk the corridor toward the stairs. "Nat says she wants to show me her _appreciation_ later on, so perhaps you could make yourself scarce around the room this afternoon?"

"I have Quidditch practice," Jack muttered. "So, by all means, enjoy your 'appreciation'."

"Excellent," Flynn said, smiling.

"Where'd you even get the money for all those flowers anyway?" Jack asked as they neared the stairs. "Because I loaned you some because you told me you couldn't afford—"

"Oh, get this," Flynn said as he lowered his voice. "And don't tell Nat or anyone else, but I didn't even have to pay for them. Nicki gave them to me. She didn't want them."

Jack slowed his pace down to look at Flynn. Wait, Dominique had received those flowers _on top_ of all of the ones he'd witnessed. Seriously? She was up to probably six dozen now.

"But don't tell Nat that," Flynn repeated.

"Are you fucking serious?" Jack said under his breath, picking up his pace again. "What is with all these random nutters sending her flowers? They can't possibly think that—"

"Well, these weren't from them, they were from Davies," Flynn said, though it was almost as if he realized what he'd said a moment too late. He immediately looked at Jack rather apologetically. "Oh, shit, I…"

Jack stopped walking all together now, his insides feeling as if they suddenly caught fire. "How do you know they were from Davies?"

"I saw the card," he said rather obediently.

"There was a bloody card?" Jack asked through clenched teeth. "He fucking wrote her a…" He looked away. He wanted to hit something.

"She was planning on chucking them in the bin, mate," Flynn said. "Said she didn't want them and told me I could have them. She seemed annoyed—"

But Jack was barely even paying attention now. He couldn't even put into words how much he hated Henry Davies and the fact that he existed. He had her for ages and didn't even appreciate her, but now, he's sending her fucking flowers? He'd never even sent her flowers when they were together! He'd never done anything!

They'd reached the stairs, just as a flock of fifth-year Ravenclaw girls passed, some of whom were carrying various amounts of roses. They were talking and laughing amongst themselves; one of them, who Jack vaguely knew as being Kiera Khan's younger sister, stopped in her tracks and smiled at him. "Hi Jack."

He wasn't in the mood to make banal small talk, but forced a polite smile as he continued on his way.

"Hey, wait," she called after him before she came rushing up to him. Her friends remained behind, but were all watching rather attentively. "Question. Do you have a girlfriend? Because I'd heard—"

"No. He's very single," Flynn quipped. Jack threw him a dark look, though it only prompted Flynn to add, "What? You are."

The girl's face perked up. "Oh, good. Well, then, I just wanted to wish you a happy Valentine's Day." With that, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. She smiled proudly after she'd done it and then turned rather casually to rejoin her friends without so much as another word.

"What?" Jack asked, letting his gaze land on Flynn to see if he had an explanation. He only shrugged as if to say, ' _lucky you'_ , before calling over to the girls, "Well, happy Valentine's to you, too."

"This day makes everyone mental," Jack muttered.

"You're supposed to leave the mark!" called one of the other girls as the group strolled away. "It's part of the game! Don't wash it off."

"What mark?" Jack asked Flynn, though the latter was now pointing to his face and claiming he had red lipstick on his cheek. At the exact moment, a group of Hufflepuff boys passed, each sporting their own small collection of lipstick and bragging about the number of girls they'd collected so far.

"Oh, I think I get it," Flynn said, smirking a little before looking back at Jack. "Yeah, you're supposed to show off all the girls you can get to kiss you. I heard someone talking about getting that to catch on this year." He smirked at him. "You should get a bunch and then make sure Nicki sees you."

Jack rolled his eyes, realizing immediately that seemed juvenile. At the same time, however, her endless amounts of roses flew through his mind; Davies flew through his mind.

It wasn't as if he'd purposely seek her out to show off—that would be petty. But...if he _happened_ to have a few girls show interest in giving him a small kiss, and she _happened_ to see it, he couldn't exactly stop that. That wasn't his fault.

"It's just a harmless game," Flynn encouraged. "I'd play if I was single. You should have fun with it. I mean, how many flowers did she get this morning? The whole country practically..."

"Yeah," Jack said, cutting him off with a nod. "Right. It's just a harmless game."


	8. Something Lost

**Something Lost**

* * *

**#41: Vague Answers**

"Good morning, Mr. Ians. Miss Kirke," said Professor Longbottom as they entered their morning Herbology lesson. Instead of walking to their seats as everyone else was, both—as usual—had walked straight up to where Longbottom sat behind his desk. He seemed to already be anticipating this.

"I have no new news for you," Longbottom continued. "It's the same as when you asked the last time. Louis and Dominique are still under observation in France, and they should be home soon."

"It's been two weeks since the second task," Jack said to him. "And they're not in hospital, so why are they under observation? Why can't they come home?"

Longbottom stared at him. Jack knew he wasn't going to get an answer—he never answered this question—but he wasn't going to stop asking.

"All I can say is that Professor McGonagall is working on it," Longbottom said. "And hopefully that will be sooner rather than later. Now, if you'll take your seats..."

Always the same vague answer. It made Jack want to throw things. He looked at Sarah, who seemed just as unsatisfied by the secrecy of it all, but both turned and wandered over toward their seats without another word. Their N.E.W.T.s were growing ever closer and it was important for them to crack down and focus, but Jack could think of very little else other than the fact that two weeks ago, Dominique had vanished without a word to France to help Louis in the second task, and no one outside of McGonagall had apparently heard from them since.

Something had happened to them. They were still alive and healthy—Longbottom liked to stress this—but if that were true, why were they still in France? Why couldn't they come home? Why weren't they back?

It all had been strange and unnerving, but the worst bit of all was that Jack had been living with the guilt that he and Dominique had a huge row before she left. They'd left things strained on Valentine's Day after Sarah had told him that Dominique had apparently been upset to the point of running out of class at the sight of him with lipstick marks all over his face. It had all come to a head later that day when they'd confronted each other at Quidditch practice over his lipstick marks and her flowers; they'd both angrily shouted at the other to mask their hurt feelings.

Then she'd vanished before they could talk again. Just like that, she was gone.

He wished he could claim that he'd been waiting for her later that evening in the common room, wanting to apologize and talk to her about the fact that they clearly were both so angry with each for the exact same reasons. He wished he'd realized then that they were both hurt and angry because they were jealous. He wished he could have admitted that he still was very much in love with her.

But he hadn't done any of those things that night. Instead, after their fight, he'd mostly ignored her at Quidditch practice, barely paid attention to her storming out of the changing rooms to walk back to the castle, and then ignored the fact that she wasn't around all evening until Sarah—much later that evening—asked if he, if anyone, had seen her. Even then, Jack assumed she was simply off sulking somewhere. He'd never have dreamed she was missing.

Sarah was panicky the next morning, claiming Dominique never turned up to sleep and that her bed was untouched. She even asked him, point blank, if some sort of Valentine's Day reconciliation had happened and if she'd spent the night with him.

Jack shook his head. "I haven't spoken to her since we had that row yesterday. She seriously never turned up?"

"No," Sarah said, immediately turning to walk up to the Head Table now. She'd headed straight to Longbottom, clearly looking for answers.

As it turned out, the second task had been that day, and Dominique had volunteered to somehow assist her brother in its completion. This only doubled the anxiety Jack now had going into this task, seeing as now he found himself terrified that not only would something happen to Louis, but also to Dominique. This was the first instance of his guilt starting to eat him alive.

Then the news came that Louis had completed the challenge—some weird mystery sort of maze—and came in first place; winning the entire thing and sending Gryffindor into a state of complete madness. Not only did that mean Louis won, but he was again back in contention to actually win the entire tournament. Also, if he finished, that meant he—and Dominique—were safe and sound.

Except they weren't. Jack could remember the day Zara returned from France, alone and unaccompanied, which had field more questions than ever. Longbottom claimed there were some slight complications, but not to worry—they'd be back soon. Zara wasn't much help either, claiming they'd had some issues with the task, but she didn't elaborate. Sarah swore Zara seemed shifty and uncomfortable with the answer, as if she knew more but wasn't saying it.

All Jack knew, as he watched James Potter—his back up Seeker—flying around the pitch, now zooming around the sky and filling the spot Dominique wasn't available for, was that he missed her. He kicked himself every day for leaving things the way they had. He should have just talked to her—not argued with her, even if that did prove to be difficult since she tended to go straight for the sharp barbs.

If he'd only just admitted to her that he'd been in a shitty mood on Valentine's Day because, while he'd thought he was winning that battle with moving on, he was wrong—so wrong. Valentine's Day had only made him realize how little he had moved on. How much he still wanted her to be with her. How much the sound of Davies' name or the sight of anyone else trying to win her favor actually chipped away at him bit by bit.

And she...she'd wanted to throw away Davies' flowers. She'd gotten upset with him, Jack, for letting other girls kiss him. Sarah, who'd told him time and time again that Dominique never stopped wanting him—that she'd admitted this to her before she'd left—kept insisting that the two wanted the same thing.

"You both just need to stop fighting being apart, because if you do that," Sarah told him one night over homework, "you'll see how fast you're both drawn back together."

Jack had looked away, letting his gaze travel over to a group of third-years on the other side of the common room who were laughing over their own work. To go back to when things were that simple.

"Jack, she feels the same way you do," Sarah continued. "I'd even go so far as to say—and this is strictly my opinion—but…" She met his eyes. "She's in love with you. I'd bet money on it."

He stared at her.

"But it's going to take an army to get her to admit that," Sarah continued. "Because that is the most vulnerable she can possibly be, and that's not an easy place for her. And if you want her to get there, you're going to have to do two things."

"What's that?" he asked, his voice subdued, but also oddly eager.

"One, forgive her," she said. "Truly forgive her for the Ministry thing. Take her at her word that it meant nothing, because I really do believe she meant it when she said it was a misunderstanding. She hates Davies."

Jack swallowed. "And two?"

"Be patient," she said slowly. "Because she will come around if you give her the chance. It's just whether or not you're willing to do that."

* * *

**#42: Big News**

Out of nowhere, Jack got plunked on the head with a balled up paper towel. He'd been finishing up on the toilet and had just flushed when the towel hit him directly on the top of his head; he stared at it as it fell to the tile floor beside his shoe. There was only one person who would do something that specific while he was in the loo.

"Are you planning on avoiding me forever?" Louis asked him once he'd opened the cubicle door to find him standing there, leaning against the sink basin with his wand out and another crumpled up paper towel in his hand. They hadn't played this game in ages. He was grinning as if this was all very funny.

Jack closed his eyes in a rather defeated sort of way. If he answered that question honestly, then yes, he had been hoping to avoid Louis for the rest of time. It wasn't that Louis had done anything, just that Jack couldn't look him in the eye after he'd discovered that Louis and Dominique, while in France, had all of their memories swapped around due to a botched spell. That had been the complication they'd been forced to stay behind for.

"So, let me get this straight," Flynn had asked Louis after he and Dominique had returned; a large group of them gathered in the Great Hall over dinner listening to their story. "You can see her memories? As in, if the two of them—" He pointed from Dominique to Jack, who was doing his best to melt himself into the ground at this admissions, "were off having sex somewhere—"

"Fuck, Flynn. Seriously?" Dominique snapped, and Jack immediately stopped wishing he could melt into the ground since that wasn't nearly a fast enough escape. He instead pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, as if that would somehow protect him. He avoided Louis' eye as if the fate of the entire world depended on it.

But of course Flynn didn't notice any of this and carried on. "You can actually see that?"

"I can see all of it," Louis said. "Anything she's," he looked at his sister, "deemed important enough to remember. With Jack here, that seems to be a lot."

Jack grimaced.

"Some time spent together on New Year's Eve in my house, for example."

For the love of...He just closed his eyes. This was Hell. Turns out that it was real. The nuns at Catholic school had been right. They hadn't made that up. He'd evidently done something terrible to be sent there and now here he was. In Hell.

Louis now knew...everything—everything that had happened between him and Dominique. All with the added visuals to go along with it.

Jack had no idea what to make of that. It was embarrassing enough to have your private moments exposed to someone who wasn't meant to see them, but for that person to be Dominique's brother, his best friend—he didn't know how to deal with this. Worst of all, he didn't know whether Louis would be more bothered by the fact that he could see everything, or that Jack had kept it all a secret from him.

"Honestly," Jack finally said, stepping around Louis to wash his hands in the sink. "I don't even know what to say to you. What can I say?"

Louis continued to smile as he levitated the paper towel into the air for shits and giggles. He was watching it as he purposely made his voice sound deep and full of fake authority. "You can tell me what your intentions with my sister are."

"Fuck..." Jack mumbled, shutting off the water and letting his head hang.

"Yeah, I saw that part," Louis said as he sent the paper towel once again sailing into the side of Jack's head. "I was hoping there was more to it."

Jack didn't even react to the towel. He only sighed, wishing vanish on the spot, or perhaps a flash flood could come sweeping through the room? A comet? An explosion? A sinkhole? Any of these sounded like better options than what he was facing. He finally met Louis' eyes, only to find him still smirking with a shit-eating-grin on his face.

In a tentative voice he said, "It wasn't just...that."

"Well, that's a start," Louis said, and he still wouldn't wipe that grin off his face. "Look, I get you're embarrassed—"

"I don't think embarrassment really sums it up," Jack said, stepping around him to lead the way out of the bathroom.

Louis laughed as he followed into the corridor. "I won't lie, it was a surprise. And, well, I learned a few things about you…"

Jack groaned. "For fuck's sake…"

Louis continued to laugh, clearly enjoying this. "I'm only taking the piss, mate. Believe it or not, I don't actively seek out memories of my sister—" He stopped and blinked hard, as if fighting an image off, "—doing that. I push the thoughts out when they come. I'm getting good at it." He looked back at him. "I've barely paid attention to it."

That really didn't make Jack feel any better.

"And as for the secret of it all…" He shrugged as they both entered their bedroom. "I'm not one to talk. I wish you'd have said something, but I get why you didn't. I also know I haven't been around, so it hasn't exactly been easy.

"But, I really don't care if you and my sister hooked up," he said earnestly as Jack proceeded to walk over to his own bed. "Nic and I have never had the sort of relationship where we feel protective over each other's...lives. I've never been that type of brother, nor will I ever be. Trust me, if I was, I would have cursed the shit out a Davies a long time ago, but…" He looked at him. "I didn't because Nic can do that herself. Her life, her choices, her—" He paused, "well, in the case of Davies, her fuck ups."

Jack made a face as if to say he could agree with that last part.

"And yeah, you're my best mate, but…" He sighed. "I wasn't above falling for her best friend. Why should she be? You're a catch. It's like I told her, you're the best guy I know—and I mean that. Why wouldn't I want her with someone like you as opposed to Davies?"

Jack crossed his arms across his chest, his emotions all over the place at the moment. He was still mostly embarrassed, but he was also fairly moved that Louis would say that about him. He genuinely didn't seem upset by this at all.

"Well, we're not together," Jack muttered. "And I have no idea whether or not she even wants to—"

"She does," Louis said immediately. "And I didn't need her memories to see that." He paused for a minute. "I mean, don't get me wrong, they help..."

This was, oddly enough, the most normal, typical conversation the two of them could have—a random chat about a girl. They'd done it a hundred times before. However, it was also the strangest conversation they'd ever had because this girl was now his twin sister. And he was about to ask him questions he would have never dreamed running by him in the past.

"You can see that?" Jack asked, now wondering what exactly Louis could tell him about how Dominique felt.

"Not only can I see it, but I can feel it," Louis said. "It's not just seeing the memories, I get the feelings she's attached to them." He paused again as if mulling over how to say the next part. "Look, she gets really happy when you're around. For example, that dance you had at the Christmas Party put her on cloud nine. She couldn't sleep after your first kiss because she was so excited. Every time you two kiss she gets giddy."

Jack cracked a small smile, despite himself.

"She also gets really upset when things are bad between you. She was jealous when she walked in on you with that girl at the Quidditch Trails, she was crushed on Valentine's Day, and she was absolutely destroyed after you chucked her after what happened with Davies at the Ministry."

"What actually happened there?" Jack asked, letting his curiosity get the better of him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer because only one of two terrible scenarios could possibly play out. Either he was right, and this confirmed she was still hung up on Davies; or he was wrong, and he...hadn't believed her.

"The thing with Davies?" Louis asked, now looking as if he was thinking hard about it. "From what I can see—what I can feel—she was in a very strange place. I know she had to deal with some weird shit thanks to me and the tournament earlier that day, and Davies just happened to catch her off guard. She didn't seem to enjoy his company much and he was being a git."

He looked back at Jack. "He really set her off when—and I can see this part clearly, so it really must have struck a chord with her—he claimed the only reason she fancied you was because you got a nine at the Trials."

Jack let his eyes narrow.

"And she told him off," Louis concluded. "She was angry."

"They were holding hands."

"Seems he grabbed hers, and she just wasn't quick enough to pull it away. She definitely didn't like it." He shrugged. "You turned up at the exact wrong moment, mate. But I swear to you, she wanted nothing to do with him."

Jack looked away. Shit.

But also...hooray? He didn't know how it was possible to feel such conflicting emotions. She'd been telling the truth; but also, he hadn't believed her. The first real test of trust and he'd blown her straight off.

"Anyone would have reacted the same way," Louis offered, as if sensing Jack's train of thought. "You can't beat yourself up about that."

Jack wanted to snap back, " _Watch me_ ," but instead let the palms of his hand now dig into his eyes out of frustration. "I didn't believe her."

"How could you?" Louis said. "She's got an awful track record with Davies, and they were holding hands—even if she hadn't wanted to. We've talked about you a few times since I found out, and I haven't heard her once say she blamed you for not believing her. I think a part of her even knows how bad it looked and she's kicking herself for letting herself get caught up."

Jack lowered his hands from his eyes. "You've talked about me?"

Louis shrugged. "I mean, yeah. Obviously. Sort of big news."

He stared at him. He was genuinely shocked to hear this considering the source. Dominique was talking about him with her brother? "What did she say?"

"That she fancies you and wants to fix things," Louis said in a very obvious sort of way. "Come on, mate. Keep up. What have we been talking about?"

Jack groaned again out of frustration. "I don't even know what…" He started pacing. "What am I supposed to even do? Do I apologize for not believing her? Because if I do that, then she'll know you're sharing her memories with me, and that's a gross invasion of privacy that would probably upset her."

"Yeah, let's you and I keep this conversation private," Louis said matter-of-factly. "I've probably already said more than Nic would like, but...I guess I felt you needed to hear it."

Jack let himself dully plop down on his trunk. "Where do I even go from here?"

"I mean, talk to her," Louis offered. "I can't claim to know what works for her because she's a blank slate when it comes to romantic gestures that win her over. But know this…"

Louis suddenly looked away and down at the ground. He seemed to be struggling with getting whatever it was he wanted to say out loud. "She's dealing with some things right now. While we were in France, we both realized we've lost…" He sighed deeply. "Let's just say she's been dealing with quite a bit of loss lately and she's having a hard time with it."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

Louis stared at him. "I can't…" He suddenly stood up. "I can't give away all her business, just don't be afraid to be there for her. I know she'll try and push you away; that's what she does to everyone, but...don't let her. She needs someone to push back."

Jack nodded slowly, his expression curious. "Alright."

Louis turned then, looking as though he were about to exit, but he'd stopped before reaching the door. He turned back to look at Jack. "Do you love her?"

Jack let his eyes lock onto Louis' for a long second before he let himself continue to nod. "Yeah."

Louis smiled, though it was a mixture of almost happy and sad at the same time. Jack wasn't quite sure what to make of it before Louis added, "Glad to hear it. At least I didn't have to fight that out of you."

"Why would you have to fight that out of me?"

Louis shrugged, his smile more genuine this time. "Because certain people try to fight it, even if it's perfectly obvious."

* * *

**#43: Ups and Downs**

"I feel as though the rules need to be reviewed," Louis said to Jack and Dominique over their dinner, where he sat across from the pair of them. He'd even set his silverware down on the table to give them both his full attention. He seemed to want the same in return.

"What rules?" Dominique asked.

Louis was looking at Jack specifically, and didn't immediately answer his sister's question. "Rule one. Silencing charms to be in full effect at all times whenever she's planning on being in the room. I cannot stress this enough."

"Oh," said Dominique, realization now dawning across her face and causing her to smirk. "Now I get it."

Jack smiled, too, right as Louis added, "Rule two. Hangings on the bed need to be always—I repeat, always—drawn. Let's not accidentally slip up." He made a face. "I've already got one mental image of the two of you, I don't need more."

"Perhaps you should just start sleeping in the common room to be safe," Dominique joked, causing Jack to laugh and Louis to slightly glower at her.

It had been, quite possibly, the second longest day of Jack's life, but it had been worth it because he and Dominique had finally—finally, finally, finally—figured things out. It had taken them months—maybe in some ways, years—to put the pieces together, but as of that afternoon, they'd done it. They were officially, strings attached, together.

He wasn't sure what exactly flipped today, but something had changed that morning. Days prior, he'd discovered from Dominique that she'd somehow lost her ability to fly due to spell damage from the second task, and he'd committed himself to helping her through that. He liked to think it had nothing to do with his feelings for her and that he would have done it no matter what, but he also knew that he probably wouldn't be out there at the crack of dawn every morning with Tommy out of the goodness of his heart. He was doing this for her.

They'd been keeping things strictly platonic—if not a little charged—since she'd been back. He wanted her to know he was there for her in whatever way she needed—even if that meant leaving her be while she figured things out on her own. That seemed to be working. She'd ask him questions out on the pitch and sometimes needed his input, but on the whole she was busy working on improving herself and he kept himself busy with his work out.

But this morning, they'd been talking and she'd made a joke about him playing favorites on the team. He'd thrown caution to the wind and told her what she had to already know—that he couldn't play favorites when she was already filling that roll for him. She had been his favorite teammate since third year, and she'd been his favorite person, full stop, for the last few months. He didn't think this was much of a secret.

He'd hoped she'd see it as sweet, flirty even; a chance to set them back in the direction they'd strayed from back at the Ministry that day. But he'd never expected what happened next: That she would come straight over to him, wrap her arms around him, and then kiss him where he sat.

It was their first kiss in months, and while it was short, it had sent such a jolt through him that when she pulled away and walked off, he almost felt as if she'd gone and taken the oxygen out of the air with her.

He'd blinked, shocked; still able to taste the sweat from her morning workout on his lips. What…? Why did she...? She couldn't just kiss him like that and walk away. What had that meant?

He pulled himself up and immediately jogged straight after her. He found her in the changing room, and—without comment or question—walked over, took her head in his hands, and kissed her with the sort of energy that he hoped would somehow apologize for not believing her when she'd told him the truth. For the months they'd lost due to a stupid misunderstandings. For the fact that he didn't care if she felt herself to be broken lately, he thought she was everything.

That moment had been everything, and he let himself enjoy everything about her then as if there was no one else in the world. He threw all of his usual reservations out the door and they'd had sex right there in the changing room. It had been right up against that stupid table that held the towels—the same one he'd thrown his equipment on, written game plays on, slammed his fists against loads of times in the past.

He'd been surprised at how little he'd given a shit about the fact that someone could walk in or that they could be found once he was caught up in the moment. Sex now made a lot more sense to him when it was with her. All he wanted to do was make her feel good; let her enjoy something she'd told him she fantasized about after everything she'd been through lately.

But that had been the start of the day. Following the tremendous 'up' of having great sex with this girl he was in love with and hopefully moving their relationship back toward a better place, the rollercoaster of ups and downs came quick and fast after that.

Down—Zara Zabini had returned to play for Slytherin in their Quidditch match that morning, thus screwing up all plans Jack had previously made. Her presence alone would mess with Kenley's head, seeing as years of Zara hammering her with Quaffles was hard to forget. Worse yet, Gryffindor's Chasing core was weakened now that Potter had moved to Seeker since Dominique couldn't fly. If only Dominique could...

Up—Dominique had agreed to play Seeker after he all but begged her to, knowing she didn't want to, but hoping she would. He knew her presence against Clark Motley, Slytherin's mediocre Seeker who had never beaten Dominique, would mess with his head—just as Zara messed with Kenley's. It would have been an even trade. Plus, Dominique being Seeker meant Potter could play Chaser; a win for all.

Down—That had been an awful decision. The worst decision. Such a shit decision. Jack hated himself for asking her to do that, because right before the match, Dominique had a complete panic attack before taking the pitch. She couldn't stand; she could barely breathe. The pressure had been too much; her anxiety got the better of her. As he watched her crouched over, suffering something he'd been responsible for causing, he felt he'd never regretted something more in his life. He never should have asked her...

Up—She was alright. He'd found her looking calmer and more alert in the Ravenclaw changing room later on once Longbottom and Flitwick had helped her. He'd gone to fetch Louis—who was far more familiar with anxiety attacks—and he'd talked to her. While Jack still blamed himself, Dominique didn't. She'd told him he couldn't have known and she'd even kissed him in front of other people—in front of Louis. That was a huge step; Jack only wished he could have celebrated the fact more instead of worrying about everything else closing in.

Down—He still had to play this fucking Quidditch match, which as it turned out was a complete shitshow. Zara and Erin shouldn't be allowed to play Quidditch together because they're frustratingly good when they're on. Gryffindor was managing to keep close at first, but not close enough. They needed to end this—the Snitch kept appearing. He needed to take the risk and switch out Potter from Chaser to Seeker to make that happen as quickly as possible.

Up—He'd put Zara out of the match with an incredibly well aimed Bludger that knocked her straight off her broom. It'd been an incredibly tricky shot, but he'd pull it off in a rather epic sort of fashion. It earned him a roar from the crowd, half of which were cheering, the other half booing. Erin Tanner, in a fit of rage, called him a "fucking twatwaffle," which was creative. He'd never heard that one before.

Down—They lost embarrassingly. Switching out Potter was a shit move and probably the dumbest decision Jack had ever made as captain. With Zara out, Gryffindor had their chance to run the score up, but now his Chasers were exhausted and Potter, with no Snitch in sight, had nothing to do but watch Slytherin continue to push on Kenley. Zara or no Zara, Erin had a score to settle now and was coming at them hard. When Potter finally caught the Snitch, it was to put Gryffindor out of their misery.

Up—Longbottom enthusiastically introduced him to two Quidditch League scouts after the match. They'd been following his game play all season and were impressed. They seemed especially keen by that hit on Zara and wanted him to speak to it.

Down—He wasn't in the fucking mood to talk to these people right now. Did they not see his team get stomped on? Did they not see how badly that had gone? Plus, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the arena and see how Dominique was feeling. Still, he knew his place, forced a smile, and answered all the questions he was asked until he could shake them.

Up—Dominique was fine. She'd gotten some Calming Draught and looked much more like herself when he saw her sitting in the common room. That alone was enough to give him some peace of mind before he tried to excuse himself away to find a hole to crawl in; away from the faces and the people who were obviously judging him for his awful match handling.

But this was where the 'up' stayed up; where it didn't matter what happened next because this 'up' was so high, he didn't think he would come down for days.

Dominique had followed him upstairs and, without pretense, simply sat with him. He'd warned her he didn't want to talk, and she seemed fine with that. She didn't even yell at him for his terribly executed choice in the match, or how he'd been the one to fuck up Gryffindor's chance. She'd merely wiggled in beside him on his bed so that they were directly beside each other; soon enough he was leaning into her, reading some magazine with her.

Everything about it had been so comfortable—comfortable silence, comfortable positions, comfortable situation. This was all he wanted. Every time she'd pushed back against his desire for them to be together because she seemed to think it was some insane commitment, but this was all he wanted. He wanted to enjoy the mundane with her. He wanted to laugh about pointless stuff with her. He wanted to be alone with her after he'd had a shitty day because her just being there made him feel better.

And maybe he made her feel the same way, because she'd asked him as they sat there whether this meant they were together. Anyone else asking that question, he'd have immediately said yes. How could they not be? He couldn't possibly connect more with someone than they had that day; he couldn't feel so many different emotions for someone in one day.

But this was Dominique Weasley. She had a way of making him think he was mental for making these obvious assumptions.

"Do you fancy…" she'd asked, cutting to the chase after him teasing her, "perhaps, making a thing of this? Properly, that is? You and me?"

While he should have just said 'yes' straight away and make this happen before she had a chance to change her mind, he couldn't help himself. He forced himself to look pensive as he shrugged. "I dunno. Can I think about it?"

She'd swatted at him, but he kissed her before she could complain or change her mind because he was being a prat.

She'd laughed half into their kiss, and mumbled against his mouth, "I can't believe we're doing this. It's madness."

He didn't stop kissing her, but managed to ask, "What? Snogging?"

She hummed into his mouth.

He pulled back slightly to look at her. "Nic, we had sex on a table this morning. How is a bit of snogging…?"

"No, I meant…" She gestured between them. She was blushing. "This. A proper relationship."

He smiled at her. "I promise I'll do my best to make it worth your time."

She blushed even more, which even red faced and flushed, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life. He'd gone to kiss her again—because he was allowed to do that now!—but he was interrupted at that moment by the door to their room opening and Louis entering in a casual sort of manner. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the two of them, looking mildly surprised to find them there.

"Well, hello," Louis said, fighting off a smirk. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Aren't you always?" Dominique muttered.

"Am I?" Louis asked, sounding surprised to hear that. "How? I'm never even around anymore." He shrugged and seemed to be hurrying about whatever it was he'd come in for. "But I'll be quick. Let you get back to it."

"Hey, Lou," Jack said, turning to face him head on and trying to catch his attention. "Guess who finally decided to go out with me?"

Louis stopped to look at them both. He wasn't hiding his smirk now. "Well, it's about time."

"Oh, it's not me," Dominique joked, keeping a straight face as she spoke. "I don't know who he's carrying on with."

Louis' grin didn't falter as he took her in. "Aw, Nic. You've got a boyfriend."

Jack expected a quip back, something fitting of the typical banter she and Louis had. He looked over at her and braced himself, only for her to say nothing more than a modest sounding, "Yeah. I do."

* * *

**#44: Tomato**

Dominique put her quill between her teeth, holding it there as she began flipping rapidly through pages of her textbook in search of something. Her brow was furrowed, as if she was thinking hard about something. Jack had become used to this look in the weeks she'd been back from France; he called it her "thinking face."

It wasn't new. She'd made it for ages, though not at the intensity she did these days. She'd started taking school much more seriously lately, and with good reason. She'd become really good at it thanks to yet another switch with Louis. With N.E.W.T.s around the corner it was important they all buckled down.

But he was always distracted by how adorable she looked when she was working particularly hard. It didn't make him want to do his work—he'd rather go upstairs and study her—but he instead forced himself to return to his Charms revision. Truthfully, even with his never ending pile of schoolwork attempting to crush him everyday, these moments with her were the most relaxed Jack felt during the course of most days. Everything else in life was becoming more and more suffocating; this, right here, was his reprieve.

It had used to be flying and Quidditch, but even that had become a source of extreme stress and frustration lately. After pulling out a win against Hufflepuff, Gryffindor had a match against Ravenclaw in the next few weeks where the Quidditch World Cup was on the line. The pressure was on Jack to work out some sort of scenario in which his team could keep up with the very talented Ravenclaw team. They were battered and bruised and barely hanging on with the now permanent loss of Dominique, which forced Potter solely into the Seeker spot. There was so much work to be done.

On top of that, Quidditch was now becoming entirely synonymous with his entire future. More and more official types were crawling out of the woodwork to speak to him, meet with him, watch him play. He'd been invited back to the Quidditch Trails as an invitation athlete; he was getting letters from organizations who were looking to get his attention and speak to him; he was having visitors travel from other countries to attempt to persuade him to forego the Trials entirely and instead focus on early interests—even presenting him actual salary numbers and potential contracts. He couldn't even pick up his bat or broom lately without feeling the weight of the world collapsing in on him.

And this was naturally, all while he was also attempting to work out his N.E.W.T.s, which didn't care in the slightest if he could hit a Bludger with precise accuracy. They were ready to chew him and spit him out at a moment's notice and they were growing closer everyday.

Dominique was the bright spot—well, usually. They'd gone through another rough patch recently that he really should have seen coming a mile away. With all the attention he was getting from Quidditch and scouts, he'd been stupid to not see how it would affect her. She was still barely capable of keeping her broom straight when she flew, and he was having teams from Germany asking him to sign early and commit to them for actual money and contracts. He was living the dream—her dream; their dream—and she had to sit there and watch it all happen.

He had truly not considered the fallout that came, seeing as he'd naively hoped she would just be excited for him. Looking back, that probably would have been impossible for her—it all had to be rather crushing to bear witness to—but he'd been too overwhelmed with it all to see it bubbling in her until it was too late.

It came to a head the night of the annual remembrance bonfire, where she'd gone off on him about moving to Germany and joining the Munich team who'd been talking to him, which...he'd never said that. He had no plans to do any of that, so why was she flying off the handle? Just that morning, they'd been fine; now she was talking about how they'd have to break up if he made that choice? She apparently couldn't be with him if that was the case; she was seething about something that hadn't even happened.

When she'd stormed out of that tent room after that confrontation, leaving him standing there in the wake of her anger and threats of ending their relationship, he'd honestly felt as if someone had stunned him. He didn't do anything...What did she want him to do?

He hadn't chased after her—he didn't have it in him to confront her then, not when she was like this—but he had emerged from that room to find Sarah, alone, sitting on the small sofa in the makeshift sitting room. She was staring at him with a mixture of concern and pity, as if she'd heard the entire argument.

"I get you. Louis went after Nic," she said quietly. "Presumably to yell at her."

Jack stared at her. He felt his face tighten; his eyes were starting to sting.

"I don't know what's got into her," Sarah continued, her voice consoling. "But…you know how she gets when she's upset—"

"I didn't do anything," he said, and to his embarrassment his voice cracked with emotion.

"You didn't," Sarah agreed. "No, this is on her. It's something she needs to work out. She's taking her frustrations out on you."

"She seems to want to break up with me," he said blankly.

"I don't…" Sarah began to say, but she stopped and instead let her gaze fall away from his. She looked dismayed.

He looked away. His eyes were really stinging now and he blinked multiple times to fend of the overwhelming sense of emotion that was now gripping him. Fuck, he couldn't remember the last time he cried.

Flynn returned to the tent then, and Jack immediately turned away. He hid a sniffle, blinked any signs of tears away, and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes for good measure. He crossed his arms and let his gaze settle straight on the floor, avoiding Flynn entirely.

"You need a drink, mate," said Flynn. It hadn't been a question, and Jack could see him out of his peripherals that he was fishing something out of a bag.

"Before the bonfire?" asked Sarah. "Do you think that's wise? If Longbottom catches you..."

"Then we won't let him catch us," Flynn said, now holding out a flask for Jack to take. "Go on. A bit won't hurt. It'll take the edge off."

Jack had still avoided Flynn's eyes, but didn't hesitate to take the flask from him as he swigged it quickly. It was Firewhiskey and he'd taken a gulp large enough that his throat now felt it was on fire. He coughed a bit, but didn't regret the choice.

They passed it back and forth between them, Sarah watching them with a cocked eyebrow, before Flynn proceeded to refill it from the bottle he'd bought for the after events. He pocketed it and took it out to the bonfire as they purposely sat behind Sarah, Natalie, Eleanor, and some of the Ravenclaw girls to hide the fact that they continued to keep drinking from it throughout the entire lecture. Jack was having a hard time listening to Dominique's family talk anyway—they just reminded him of her.

The night soon became a blur. A drunken, fucked up blur. He could remember Louis trying to talk to him; trying to get him to go and talk to Mrs. Harry Potter about Quidditch, but that wasn't happening. One, because he was wasted, which Louis seemed to pick up on. Two, because, fuck Quidditch tonight. It was causing him nothing but stress and grief lately. Couldn't he take off one bloody night?

Dominique was still nowhere to be found, and he didn't know how he felt about that. If she wasn't around, she couldn't break up with him. That seemed good—he'd just have to avoid her. But then again, what sort of relationship was that? When you're actively avoiding your girlfriend, why have one?

At some point, someone said there hadn't been enough alcohol—Flynn had fucked up and people were angry. Jack hadn't cared—he'd got his—but then he'd somehow got volunteered along to go and get more. He wasn't sure how that had happened, but he again didn't care much. Why not? Who cares? Fuck it.

And then there she was. Dominique in all her pretty, suddenly concerned for him, glory. "You can't do this" and "You'll be kicked off the Quidditch team" seemed to be all she could say, but honestly, wouldn't that be a _good_ thing? Isn't that what she wanted? She sure as hell didn't seem to like the alternative version where he was trying to go professional. This should be exactly what she wanted...

He couldn't remember what he said to her, but she hadn't appreciated it and stormed off. Oh well. She didn't curse or hex him, so it couldn't have been too bad. She wanted to break up with him; he may as well give her a proper reason too. He had other things to worry about, such as how he and Flynn were actually going to pull off getting more alcohol back onto the grounds.

He barely recalled anything that happened the rest of the night, he was so off his head, but he was aware he and Flynn succeeded in getting back. He could remember the two of them getting back through the gate to the school, only for neither to realize how to close it. Flynn kicked it, apparently thinking that would work, but it didn't. It had made them both laugh.

He could also remember running into Dominique again while he'd been alone and walking back to camp. She'd found him on his way and had shone her wand light directly in his face in the most irritating manner possible. Then there were words said; they were probably angry and snippy. She was probably better at making them sting than he was.

"It seems exhausting, is all," he'd told her, referring to how he perceived her view of their relationship. "You were probably a lot happier when you didn't have to try all the time."

She hadn't looked at him right away, and he was fine with that. She was sort of fuzzy and blurry, which made focusing on her difficult. Plus, he sensed that when she turned to look back at him, she was going to end it. He was bracing himself for that.

But she didn't end it; instead he'd got a response unlike anything he'd been anticipating. It was the only thing he could actually distinctly remember from their conversation because it had hit him like a Bludger. It'd been something he'd been waiting ages for her to say, but...not like this.

"I love you," she'd stammered.

OK, now he had to stare at her, even if his brain couldn't process her properly or make her stop moving around in a circle. What? No. No. No. No. No. That wasn't how this was supposed to happen. For fuck's sake, they'd just been fighting. She'd wanted to break up with him earlier in the evening! Now she was telling him…? What?

He felt something catch in his chest. He'd been sitting on saying those words to her for months. MONTHS. He'd wanted to tell her he was in love with her so many times—a hundred times. He'd had scenarios in his head where the moment presented itself and everything was perfect, but he'd instead always held his tongue. The time had never been right; he knew how scared she was of serious commitment and he didn't want to move too fast. She'd freaked out at the idea of them dating, he knew he couldn't say that to her before she was ready to hear it.

But here she was—in the dark, with her wand obnoxiously lit in his face, while he was drunk, and she was angry—and she'd said it. She'd said it first. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

He hadn't said it back, which he regretted immediately in the coming minutes when she petrified him and shoved him into a bush for some reason. Was it because he hadn't said it back? He honestly couldn't remember; he had no idea what or why it happened. All he did know was that at some point he'd blacked out, only to be roused and unpetrified by Louis.

"You look like shit," Louis said the following morning. He was standing over Jack's camp bed and looking down on him.

"I feel like shit," Jack croaked, rubbing his eyes so hard that it probably looked like he was trying to remove them. "Last thing I remember is…" He stopped rubbing and looked around, noticing that the room he was supposed to have been sharing with his girlfriend was deserted. "Where's Nic?"

"Back up at school," said Louis, his face strange.

Jack stared at him. Shit. Had he done something? Said something? Had she? Parts of last night were coming back to him—they'd fought. They'd been upset. She'd wanted to break up with him. But wait, she'd also said she loved him. He could have sworn that happened. That hadn't been a dream. But what had been the context? What if she'd said it in a, "I love you, but I can't be with you…" way? Fuck.

"Longbottom marched her up to the castle last night and she never came back," Louis continued.

"Wait, what? Why did—?"

"I was hoping you knew," Louis said. "From what I gather, Holt caught Nic with some of the alcohol you and Flynn picked up. He brought her here for Longbottom to see, made her get stuff, and she left. She was obviously in trouble. We couldn't talk to her about it. Longbottom wouldn't let us, but she did manage to get word to Sarah that she'd petrified you and put you in a bush. I went out and found you."

"That I remember," Jack said as he slowly sat up, "but…"

"Why did she petrify you?"

"I have no idea. I don't remember much of anything." He looked across the room in a spacey way. "She had to have been angry with me. She'd been upset with me all night."

Louis said nothing for a long moment. He, too, looked off in a far away manner. "She couldn't have been too angry if she took the fall for you."

"What?"

"I mean, if she was really angry with you, wouldn't she have let you be caught? Wouldn't she have blamed you? Why would she let herself get in trouble?"

Jack didn't have an answer to that, though a sudden thought now occurred to him as vague images and thoughts swirled inside of his head. She'd been worried he'd get into trouble because that could cost him Quidditch. What if she…? Would she have seriously taken the blame to protect him? Was that why she'd put him in that bloody bush?

He'd pulled himself together as best he could before heading straight up to the castle in search of her. She wasn't at breakfast, nor in the common room. He'd asked Kenley if she could go and check the girls' dormitory, but she'd informed him that her room was completely empty. She wasn't in the bathroom either.

The only place left to look for her was naturally the place he should have suspected first and foremost. She'd been flying at the Quidditch Pitch, though he'd caught her as she was leaving. She didn't seem surprised to see him, or even angry. It was almost as if she was expecting him.

"What were you thinking?" he'd asked her. "Nic, seriously, why did you do that?"

"Curse you?" she asked, her tone so very casual.

"Take the fall for me," he said. "I don't care that you cursed me. I understand how that made sense to you at the time. I care that you let yourself get in trouble for something I did."

"You know bloody well you had far more to lose than I did. I tried to tell you last night, but you didn't care. You were going to do what you wanted to do. I couldn't let you lose everything like I have because you wanted to be an idiot." She sighed and looked him in the eyes. "And Longbottom went easier on me than he would have you. He took mercy because of my spell damage."

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I can handle a few detentions."

"Could you handle being suspended from Quidditch for the rest of the season? Being kicked off the team?"

It was then that he realized she'd been carrying her broomstick out of the arena. She never brought her broomstick out unless she was taking it home. And she had a bag in her hand...what was in the bag? Realization was drawing on him as the words 'being kicked off the team' echoed loudly in his head. Had she been…?

"I've been permanently suspended and I'm no longer on the team," she added.

He wasn't sure he'd ever felt more like an arsehole in his entire life. He had been the one to set into motion the events that would get Dominique Weasley—the person who knew more about Quidditch than anyone he knew—suspended permanently from the thing she'd always loved most in the world. He had caused her to lose her spot on the Quidditch team. All because he'd fucked up and she felt the need to protect him.

And yet, the selfish part of him realized that if she was willing to do that for him, she really did care about him.

She'd immediately insisted he not feel bad about it. She attempted to excuse it away with the fact that she wasn't playing anymore anyway, and she probably never would have. However, that didn't matter to him, because at least that had been her choice. She'd still been on the team, she'd just chosen not to play. Now, it was beyond her choices. She was...finished.

And maybe that's why it hurt so much more because he knew it then that she was truly finished. He'd been holding on to the slimmest of hopes that she'd return for one last moment on the pitch for Gryffindor because he knew how much it meant to her. He'd fully believed she'd pull out that last ditch effort; he'd had faith. He didn't pray much these days, but he'd taken it up again recently for her benefit. A quick and silent prayer every night in the hopes that she could pull it together. It would have made her so happy.

They would be fine. Forgiveness was starting to be a staple in their relationship, and they were both getting better at it. Jack was starting to realize love could be hard—sometimes really hard. It wasn't necessarily always easy, but when it was easy, it really was—like these quiet moments in the common room where they could just sit quietly and be together; when he could watch her working with her quill tucked in her mouth and feel honestly so relaxed and at peace.

Dominique pulled her quill out and shut her book, checking the time. "Shit, I lost track of time. I need to get to Runes."

Jack nodded in a sleepy manner. He really needed to finish this Charms revision; maybe now that she had class, he'd finally get something together. Probably not.

She stood and gathered her things into her bag, giving the common room a quick once over. He knew what she was doing. She was checking to see if anyone was really paying attention, because she was still anxious about publicly being affectionate. It meant she was about to kiss him, and sure enough, she leaned in swiftly and planted a very light kiss on his lips.

"See you after?" she asked, pulling back to look at him.

He nodded. "I probably won't even have moved from this spot."

She smiled. "Well, finish that revision, would you? That we can carve out a few minutes to ourselves later."

"Oh, yeah?" He smiled. "To do what?" .

"Each other, obviously."

He let himself fist pump a bit in celebration, which made her laugh and call him a berk before adding, "Sometimes I wonder why I like you so much."

"Love me," he corrected. "You love me. You said so."

"Right." She was blushing a little. "I did say that." She shook her head, though her smile was playful. "What was I thinking?"

"Probably that you love me?" Jack said obviously, his grin growing wider under her clearly squirmy gaze. She wasn't there yet with these showy declarations and romantic antics, but he'd get her there. If he could have sex in public places, she could learn to embrace these sweeter moments in public.

She certainly was redder now, but laughed as she turned away, waving quickly and calling, "See you after Runes" over her shoulder.

"Nic," he called after her before she got too far away. If he yelled this, she'd probably turn scarlet, but what the hell. "I love you, too."

Sure enough, red as a tomato, her gaze scanned the common room where—as Jack had told her before—no one cared. No one even looked at them; this was all in her head. Still, she begrudged him a look that was half scolding, half sheepish, but was also clearly fighting a smile as she turned and walked out the portrait hole.

* * *

**#45: A Vision**

"Who are you going with, then?" Ansel Baileymoore had asked as a group of them sat scattered around the courtyard on a really lovely spring afternoon. If Jack was being honest, it was perfect Quidditch weather, but there were no brooms on his agenda for the day. In fact, he really should be getting upstairs to get ready for the ball in a few hours time.

Louis shrugged off Baileymoore's question, which had been specially aimed at him. It had seemed loaded, seeing as Baileymoore and Louis had never got on. Around him, Baileymoore's roommate Caleb Gilmore and several Hufflepuffs, Mike Ellison, Liam Pepperdine, and Upton Wallace had been listening to hear just who Louis had planned on taking to the Champions' Ball that evening—the same ball that was in Louis' own honor.

The courtyard was surprisingly devoid of almost all girls at the moment, which Jack had noticed immediately. A group of first year girls had passed by earlier on their way out to the grounds, but that had been the last Jack had seen any females since lunch. They'd almost all disappeared off to their rooms to prepare for the ball hours earlier than most of the boys had plans to. Even Dominique was off getting ready down at the Beauxbatons' carriage. It was why Jack and Louis had run into this lot here in the courtyard—all the girls were gone.

"Don't tell me Weasley doesn't have a date," Baileymoore said, sliding off the small wall he'd been sitting on and now walking around Louis.

"I won't tell you that, then," Louis muttered.

"But you're a champion," Mike said, staring straight over at Louis. "Most of the girls in the school would give up a limb to go with you."

Louis shrugged again, not at all seeming interested in talking about any of this. "I don't know what to tell you. I didn't ask anyone."

"I thought the champions had to have dates?" Liam asked.

"I don't really care what they expect of me anymore," Louis said, his eyes now off on the grounds. He seemed fixated on something in the distance.

"That's been obvious," Baileymoore muttered, though Louis either hadn't heard him or pretended he hadn't.

Jack watched his best friend for a moment. Even he had to admit he was surprised Louis didn't have a date, but things had been weird since he'd gotten back from France. Louis had claimed time and time again that he was keen on the Beauxbatons' champion—a French girl, called Amalie—but Jack knew from Dominique that was all in his head due to a particularly nasty love spell. It was currently being contained by a potion, which Jack felt was doing a decent job because he swore he sensed Louis was still holding a bit of a candle for Sarah. He never said anything specific to make Jack think this, but he could just tell. He'd caught her watching her a few times when he thought no one was looking, and they were talking a bit more every day.

Not that anything would probably ever come from it, because Sarah was decidedly still very anti-Louis. That and Louis didn't seem interested in the work in getting her back. He'd become very uninterested in putting in any extra effort into...well, anything lately. He'd seemed burnt out and tired—of the tournament, of school, of people. It was a subtle and strange change in him; one that hadn't gone unnoticed by Jack. He was clearly dealing with a lot from the fallout of the first two tasks; the only problem was that whenever Jack tried to press and ask if he was alright, Louis brushed even him off with a firm and dismissive, "I'm fine." He never wanted to talk about it.

"Who'd have thought," Baileymoore continued, seemingly still amused, "that we—" he gestured to the group of them, "actually pulled dates, but Weasley couldn't."

"It's probably less that he couldn't and more that he didn't," Jack offered.

"Well, sure," Baileymoore said. "It's just surprising."

"Who are you going with, then?" Jack asked, already knowing the answer since Baileymoore had mentioned it already. He just wanted to change the subject.

"Eleanor Browning," Baileymoore offered. "I'm sure she's told you. Didn't I mention that?"

"Only a hundred times," Louis muttered under his breath, and Jack was sure he was the only one who heard it. They shared a quick grin.

"Yeah, I'm excited," Baileymoore continued. "She's a nice girl. We should have fun." He looked at Liam. "He's taking Marie Clomper—she's a sixth-year. And Caleb is taking Marlowe Quinn. Even Upton's got a date. Some fifth-year actually agreed to go with him."

Upton, who rarely ever spoke, said nothing; he did still manage to throw Baileymoore a look as if to ask why he had to say it like that.

"Anyway, is Weasley _actually_ going to dress up for this?" Baileymoore asked at random, which had caused Louis to turn to him looking confused. Jack was even more confused, considering Baileymoore was looking at him.

"Why wouldn't I?" Louis asked.

"Oh, not you," he said. "No, I meant your sister." He looked at Jack. "I was asking you."

Jack furrowed his brow and rather coldly said, "Yes, why wouldn't she?"

"Because she's…" Baileymoore began to stammer. "It's just...It's really strange to picture her...She's always been so weird..."

Jack turned to square up to him, his expression now daring him to finish that sentence. Baileymoore was very fortunate that Louis had taken the opportunity to step over then, grabbing Jack by the shoulder and pulling him along with him. "Forget him. Let's get going. It's time to get dressed."

"Well, I guess we'll see for ourselves at the ball then," Baileymoore called after them.

"Eat a dick, Baileymoore," Louis said.

They'd barely caught Baileymoore muttering under his breath, "How he was made Head Boy...?"

"Because people don't like you!" Louis called back, but he hadn't bothered to stop or look back at him. He missed Baileymoore scowling at him entirely.

Jack hurried to keep up with Louis, feeling the need to offer, "He's a fucking twatwaffle."

Louis snorted a laugh. "That's the most accurate statement I've ever heard."

They pair of them headed back to Gryffindor Tower, where once again, the common room was scarcely filled for a Saturday afternoon. Usually, the place would be bustling with people playing games, hanging out, some doing school work. Now, it was mostly a couple of younger kids taking advantage of the best seats in the room since—for once—no one was booting them out of them.

After having to actually fight his way into getting a shower through the throngs of random blokes attempting to get themselves ready, Jack managed to dress himself and fix his hair relatively quickly. Checking himself in the mirror, he was happy with what he saw. His hair had settled how he wanted it to; his robes looked sharp. He'd put in the extra effort to look nice because he knew Dominique would probably look incredible when she was all dressed up for this ball and he wanted to at least try and match up.

Louis was still fixing his own hair and Flynn was only half dressed, so Jack ventured down to the common room where—unlike an hour earlier—most of the population of Gryffindor suddenly seemed to have reappeared out of thin air. Everyone was dressed to the nines, the girls with their hair and makeup done in a wide variety of styles; boys in their smart looking robes People were buzzing with excitement; clutching their date's hands, clamoring to compliment each other on their outfits, everyone greeting each other as if they didn't see each other every day.

He knew he wouldn't find Dominique up here, they had plans to meet downstairs, so he wasn't in search of anyone in particular. He was mostly just waiting for the crowds to start to make their way downstairs and indicating it was time to get moving. He'd already planned to walk down with Louis, seeing as he would eventually lead him to Dominique and the rest of their family.

"Well, don't you look quite dashing," came Sarah's voice, and when he turned he found she'd wandered over in her normal, everyday clothes; her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, but smiling rather proudly. He was already well aware she had no plans to attend the ball that evening, but seeing her now made him a little sad to know she had to be the only one over the age of fourteen who hadn't bothered to go.

"Thank you," he said, returning the smile. "You're seriously not going to go?"

She made a face before she gestured to herself. "Right, because I'm completely ready to go to a ball."

"You could change."

She rolled her eyes, but still smiled. "Well, I already have _very_ exciting plans to hang out with Fiona and some of her second year friends tonight." She turned and gestured across the room, pointing directly at a table not far away where Fiona and a small group of girls were all staring directly at them. All of the girls except for Fiona turned immediately at having been caught, and Jack couldn't help but notice Fiona looked a little sad. Sarah waved at her, but she didn't return it.

"Young heartbreak," Sarah quipped. "Always rough."

"Sorry?"

"She gets mopey whenever anything having to do with you and Nic comes up. Such as, you heading off on your big date, for example. I made the mistake of mentioning how you two are getting quite serious, and..." She trailed off and shrugged.

Jack sighed, casting another glance in the girls direction, though they'd all turned away now. "She can't really think...I mean, I'm five years older than her."

"Five and a half," Sarah corrected, "and trust me, I've told her that a hundred times. But she's a kid and it doesn't always make sense. Just be nice."

"When am I ever not nice?"

"You're the nicest bloke I know," Sarah said, as she reached over and gave his upper arm a friendly pat. "And take care of Nic, tonight, alright? Dressing up, people commenting on her appearance, all the attention— it's bound to get to her."

"I will," Jack reassured her.

"And have fun," Sarah said, giving his shoulder a playful shake. "Make her have fun. Both of you deserve to have fun."

He smiled. "It's still not too late to join us," he said, watching as people were now exiting through the portrait to leave for the evening. He could also just detect Louis having emerged from the boys' dormitory, which meant they'd be making their exit as well.

Sarah suddenly pushed him along, whether because she was done with this conversation or saving herself from a run in with Louis, Jack didn't know. She bid him goodbye and again told him to have fun before disappearing back into the dispersing crowd.

Walking with Louis down to the crowded Entrance Hall was almost a surreal experience now that he considered it. He'd been making this trek for seven years now, but there was something about doing it as a seventh-year—while he was dressed up for an important event and people looking at him—that made him realize just how far he'd come. Louis was used to the attention, and Jack was to an extent as well, having been following around in his shadow for so long.

But people were also watching him now, smiling at him, greeting him. He'd come into his own after many years of trying. He'd become so much more than Louis Weasley's friend, and only at times like this did he really notice. Times when he could catch as many looks in passing as Louis did.

"When I see Nic, I'll send her your way," Louis told Jack once he'd been instructed by Flitwick to enter a side room off the Entrance Hall reserved for the champions.

Jack nodded, watching as Louis left to presumably join his family and the other champions, all of whom were to make a grand sort of entrance. Dominique, as Louis' sister, was also supposed to participate.

He was also suddenly stuck by the realization that he was going to have to see Bill and Fleur Weasley tonight, and that they were all going to be reintroduced to each other—he as Dominique's boyfriend and them as his girlfriend's parents. He'd always got on so well with the Weasleys—they'd always treated him practically like family—and he was apprehensive about how this change in status was going to affect the way their relationship played out. He'd probably not be allowed to stay over anymore…

People had started approaching him to say their hellos. Tommy and Kenley, who'd come together, walked over to make conversation. They both looked nice and actually cute now that they'd got together and stopped fighting the inevitable. Jack wasn't sure how people did that—spent years playing that game—when he'd been exhausted after just a couple of months. But as long as it all worked out, it was worth it in the end. It was for him.

"Where's Nicki?" Tommy asked, after he'd just explained to Jack that between him and his friends, they'd brought several flasks of Firewhiskey that evening and had some serious plan.

"With her family," Jack said with a nod, throwing Flynn and Natalie a quick wave as they emerged from the crowd. "She's got to do an entrance thing because of Louis."

"I'm genuinely excited to see her all dressed up," Kenley said. "Because I know she has it in her to be absolutely gorgeous, she just never tries."

"She doesn't have to try, she just is," Jack said without hesitation, which caused Kenley to offer him a very sincere sounding, "Awww…" while Tommy just smirked.

"You two have come a long way since the days where she used to tell you to go and fuck yourself last year," Tommy said, looking over at Tommy. "Those rows were epic."

"Let's not…" Jack said, right as Mike Ellison and Ellibit Collins stopped by to say their hellos then. Jack was happy for the distraction, seeing as he wasn't particularly in the mood to relive the days of sixth-year Quidditch fights.

Everyone who stopped by to say hello asked some variation of where Dominique was or whether he'd come alone. He was happy once the door to the Great Hall finally opened and began admitting everyone, all of whom were queuing and pushing their way to gain entrance. Things were starting to kick off, but he was slightly concerned that he still hadn't found his girlfriend.

Maybe she'd gotten caught up? It was possible with everything going on, and he was sure he'd find her easily once the ball properly started. He still made the choice to stand back and let everyone exit the room in the event that she would be flushed out once the room emptied.

"You coming?" Flynn had asked, right and he and Natalie stepped forward to join the river of people pushing through the narrow entrance.

"I'm still waiting to see if I can find Nic. We had plans to meet before."

Flynn acknowledged that with a nod before he set off after Tommy, asking him something about his Firewhiskey. He'd left Natalie standing there, and she didn't seem altogether pleased about that, though she still set off into the Great Hall on her own.

Jack searched again for another couple of minutes, which was how long it took until he finally saw her standing across the room with her neck craned to look over the heads of people in passing, evidently in search of—he assumed—him. She hadn't noticed him yet, so he let himself take a moment to simply marvel at just how incredible she looked.

She was a vision; it was as if she'd walked out of a dream he'd yet to even have because this was even better than anything his imagination could have put together. Her hair was half down and loose around her shoulders, her dress was this really pretty blue color that he already knew from across the room would match her eyes exactly, and best of all she seemed mostly comfortable with all of it, which Jack had been nervous about. He knew she hated this scene, and it would have been hard to enjoy how stunning she looked if she secretly hated everything about it.

As it were, while she may not have loved it, from where he was standing, she was handling it. It made him feel a lot less guilty for soaking up every inch of her and wondering how he'd got so fortunate because...She was perfect.

Times like this made him realize just how lucky he'd been. The two of them had always had this tug of a connection, even back before they were really friends, there had always been a pull. They were meant to be in each other's lives, even when they hadn't really wanted to be; back when neither could bother with the other outside of Quidditch or the fact that they both really enjoyed spending time with Louis.

But something had always kept them tethered together—allowing them to become a pair to be reckoned with on the pitch, to become friends, then better friends, to eventually fall in love. It made him think he'd done something right in life. He wished he knew what it was because he'd be sure to keep doing it.

She'd looked in his direction and finally noticed him, causing her to smile in a way that made his heart feel as if it legitimately skipped a beat.

He would marry this moment if he could. He would marry…

Alright. Now he was just getting ahead of himself.

* * *

**#46: The Loudest Silence**

Longbottom looked from Louis to Jack, his face tired and obviously frustrated as he sat awkwardly perched on the edge of Flitwick's desk. On Jack's other side, Sarah sat completely silent. They were all completely silent. No one outside of Longbottom spoke unless they were asked a question. It was without a doubt the loudest silence that Jack had ever found him and Louis inside of. In seven years of friendship, they'd never once been this angry with each other.

"Does anyone have anything else they'd like to add?" Longbottom asked the three of them. Jack said nothing, while Louis and Sarah, the two of the people he considered his closest friends in the world, took turns either shaking their heads or—in Sarah's case—quietly murmuring, "No, sir."

This was the calm after the storm. An hour earlier, they'd all had plenty to say to each other. They'd said it loudly, and angrily, and accompanied by swinging fists and loads of swearing. He and his closest friends had dissented into complete madness for that five minute face off, only to now have to sit here in front of Longbottom having to answer for it.

It had come out of nowhere; Jack had actually been having an amazing day up until that point. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup, the celebrations had been in full swing, and Dominique had been demonstrating that she was getting more comfortable about their relationship being out in the open. She was kissing him in front of everyone and even sitting around on his lap rather affectionately while they talked. Ever since the night of the ball, she'd been embracing the two of them more publicly, which was the best feeling ever.

The night of the ball had been a serious turning point in their relationship, not only because of her allowing their relationship to go on full display with all the dancing, and touching, and kissing, and telling her parents; but even how things developed once they'd gone off on their own after the ball. When he had her to himself to just stare, smile, and laugh with—in between all the other fun, more intimate things they also did—he knew for the first time, with complete certainty, that they were moving in the right direction. They were falling deeper and deeper into each other. He'd never been happier.

"You know, I've said this before," she said to him as she lay beside him in his bed, his arm around her and holding her close as she played with the trail of hair that led down and away his stomach, "but you're the bright spot in my life right now. Everything else is shit, but…" She smiled up at him. "You're my one good thing."

"You're my best thing," he quipped, which made her bury her head into his chest to laugh a little—though that quickly gave way to her very slowly kissing her way across him.

He'd pulled her face up to his, kissing her and already ready for round two of being as close as possible to her and making her moan his name. He could never admit it out loud—not after everything she'd been through this year—but everything in his life was probably the best it had ever been. He was almost done with school, he was very likely to be playing professional Quidditch soon, and he'd got the girl. How could he complain about anything? Everything was perfect.

But turns out, that thought had been premature. Life wasn't nearly as perfect as he'd assumed during that night, and it only took him a couple of extra days to find out just how bad things could get.

Louis' attitude and apathy toward almost everything had still been in full swing, though that night of the ball a shift occurred sending him even further over the edge. He'd discovered that his sister had been lying to him about the true reasoning behind the potion he'd been taking, and he hadn't taken the news well. He'd assumed they were both on it—something to help them work out their mixed up minds and return to normal—but they were not. That potion was solely to help control the love spell Louis was under and keep him on his best behavior.

Jack didn't fully understand it, but Dominique had stressed to him how important it was for Louis to stay on course, so he'd let things play out. He felt strange about it—he'd already kept too much from Louis lately with the whole Dominique thing—but he'd been convinced it wasn't lying since Louis wasn't asking about it outright. He wasn't asking much of anything since the two didn't speak as much anymore, as Jack was often busy with Dominique, Quidditch, and N.E.W.T.s; Louis was often busy with the tournament and his new friends from Beauxbatons.

"Just tell me one thing," Louis had said to Jack the night of the ball. He's been giving his sister the cold shoulder since finding out she'd lied, and Dominique had just walked off in search of food. It left him and Louis alone for the first time that evening. "Did you know?"

"Did I know?" Jack asked.

"That she wasn't taking the same potion that I was," Louis said, turning to stare at him. "That she was lying to me?"

Jack swallowed. He'd never been a good liar, and lying to his best friend wasn't something he was comfortable with. "I...I mean, I knew she was taking potions," he offered, which was true. She'd been taking Calming Draught for her anxiety. "I didn't ask her specifically...what was...what. I just knew you both were taking things."

Louis had stared at him a moment longer, a strange sort of expression on his face. He finally looked away and muttered, "Right," before Bill and Fleur suddenly appeared beside the pair of them, looking to say their good nights.

They hadn't spoken much after that—not that night or the following day. Jack got the sneaking suspicion that Louis hadn't believed him and things were off between them, but he also may have confused 'off' with the fact that Louis and Flynn had been laid up with terrible hangovers the day after the ball and were just in shit moods. Louis, who was just annoyed with everyone and everything, had taken the opportunity to get smashed; Flynn, who'd gotten dumped by Natalie in the middle of the ball, had tried to drink away his sadness.

Jack actually didn't even see much of Louis until the day of the Quidditch Cup. He'd had woken up early, as he often did, only to find Louis surprisingly up as well. Jack had tossed a sock at him, something he'd done a hundred times in the past, and said, "You're up early."

"I have things to do," Louis said very brusquely as he finished dressing. He turned and stared at Jack lying in his bed. "You and my sister have a fight?"

Jack shook his head, wondering why he'd asked that. "No."

"She didn't spend the night?"

Oh. Jack realized now why he'd asked. She was always sleeping over these days, but she hadn't last night. "No, she thought I should sleep on my own before the big match today. You know, because she's worried, she'll toss and turn and…"

Louis didn't even look to be listening. He'd actually turned and walked off before Jack had even finished his sentence, letting the door thud heavily behind him. Jack sat up and stared at the door he'd just exited through rather strangely. Alright...That was…? What was that?

Later on that morning, Jack had found himself at breakfast, sitting with Tommy and Kenley. He'd been wondering whether Dominique was still asleep and hoping she'd make her way down so he could see her before the match, but his gaze kept resting on Louis. He was sitting far down the table, talking to the Beauxbatons' bloke, Javier. At one point, Flynn had stopped to speak to him before making his way toward Jack.

Flynn seemed put out once he sat, "What crawled up Louis' arse?"

"What'd you mean?"

"I stopped and asked him about heading down to the match and he told me—really rudely—that he wasn't going to the match and he had better things to do. He was being a right prat."

"He's not coming to the match?" Jack asked, his face immediately falling into something unmistakably confused. "He said that?"

"Yeah," Flynn muttered, now helping himself to bacon. "His friend over there, the Spanish one, kept trying to convince him he should, but he wouldn't hear of it. He's saying something about wanting to go and hang out in the Beauxbatons' carriage because that's where his little girlfriend is."

"The hell…?" Tommy mumbled, his mouth full. "Can't he do that whenever? This is Gryffindor for the Cup. Doesn't happen everyday."

Jack was wondering the same thing, but didn't say it. It also happened to be his last match at Hogwarts, and he'd assumed his best friend would be there to watch it. But he also knew Louis' potion had well worn off by now and the love spell would be back weaving itself through his brain. Jack had been nervously anticipating what exactly that was going to look like, but he definitely hadn't anticipated it turning him into an arsehole.

"Louis!" Jack called down the table once he noticed he and the Beauxbatons' bloke standing to leave. "You're not coming to match?"

Louis momentarily caught his eye, but just as quickly looked away and acted as if he hadn't heard a single word Jack had said. He turned off and left the Great Hall without so much as a look back.

Perhaps these were the reasons that, hours later, once Gryffindor had won and were happily celebrating in the common room, that Jack hadn't been surprised once Dominique had told him that she and Louis had a very loud and intense row before the match. It had apparently been bad, seeing as Dominique unleashed on him all of the truths about his love potion and how these feelings he was having weren't real. By the sound of it, they'd called each other some awful things and—as Dominique put it—Louis had broken up with her.

Could you do that? Jack wasn't at all surprised by the row, he was surprised by the intensity of it. It seemed extreme.

He'd told Dominique he'd talk to Louis, which he'd been sincere about. Yes, Louis was in a funk lately, but this was temporary. He needed people to be there for him; not allow him to push everyone away because he was angry with the world. He'd actually learned this from years of dealing with Dominique. Louis had evidently picked up another of his sister's old quirks in the swap.

But he never got the chance to talk to Louis; at least not in the way he'd planned on it.

"I can't believe she sat on your lap that entire time," Sarah had been saying to Jack as she sat in the armchair beside him as the post-win, celebratory Quidditch party unraveled around them. Dominique had left for a meeting she had with a Healer about her building anxiety fifteen minutes prior, and he and Sarah had just opened butterbeers while observing James Potter and his group of friends now loudly starting a Gryffindor chant across the room.

"I can remember how she could give Louis and me such shit for that," she continued, laughing a little. She made herself try to sound like Dominique, " _Can you two ever just separate_?"

Jack smirked. "Don't remind her, alright? I like that she's doing it."

She laughed. "You really have—"

She stopped speaking abruptly when the sound of commotion coming from the portrait hole caught their attention. They both turned to see Louis barreling in like a charging bull. He looked completely mad; his eyes flashing something awful that Jack had never seen there before. Jack sat up in his seat immediately once he noticed he was heading straight toward him.

"Where the fuck is she?!" Louis shouted at him before he was even halfway to him. The entire room grew quiet at Louis' shouts. Everyone had turned to look. Jack stood up right as Louis stopped directly in front of him.

"Louis, what…?"

"Where is she?!" he repeated, still shouting.

"Where's who—?"

"My fucking sister!" he shouted. "That bitch—"

"Woah," Jack said, his tone harsh. "Hold on. Lou, I get she's your sister, but you can't call…"

"I'll call her whatever the fuck I want!" Louis yelled, his entire face screwed up in anger. "Especially right now because she's been nothing but a fucking bitch lately."

"Lou!" Jack said, stepping forward to fill the remaining space between them and hoping to intimidate him a bit into calming down. They were roughly the same height—Louis may have had an inch on him—but Jack knew he was bigger than him in every other way. He could physically restrain him if he needed to—and easily. He noticed a few people nearby had pulled out their wands. "You need to calm down!"

His eyes flashed again. "Fuck off. Don't tell me what to do. And I don't care that she's your girlfriend. That doesn't mean anything to me. After what she's done, she's dead to me. I'll call her whatever I want!"

Jack stared at him, repeating his words slowly. "You need to calm down. Don't do this. Don't put me in this position. I don't care that she's your sister, you're not going to stand here calling her—"

"Where is she!?" he shouted once more.

"I don't know!" Jack equally shouted, lying through his teeth. He wasn't about to tell Louis the truth. Not when he was acting fucking mental. Was this what coming off his potion meant? If so, Dominique had been right—he needed to be on it. He needed to be helped.

The room was practically silent, but all eyes were on them. Flynn had come to stand behind where Sarah sat on the sofa, but seemed too petrified to speak. Natalie and Eleanor were sitting several yards away, also transfixed into complete silence. James Potter and his group of friends had all stopped cheering, while Tommy—still in his Quidditch robes—had walked over with his wand out and was tentatively hanging back, looking ready to step in if necessary. He was watching Jack as if waiting for him to say the word, though Jack made a steady hand gesture to tell him to leave it alone. He had this under control.

"You're full of shit," Louis spat. "You know exactly where she is."

Jack said nothing. He started back at him and neither broke eye contact for several seconds. Louis was the one who finally did; his eyes now behind Jack and landing on Sarah. She'd been sitting on the sofa, staring at the pair of them with wide eyes. Jack immediately felt rather protective and stepped between the pair.

"This is your fault," Louis said to her, his voice lower now but still completely unhinged.

Sarah blinked at him, and for a moment, Jack thought she might avoid this entire confrontation and simply say nothing. However, something now flashed in her eyes then and—with the entire common room watching—she stood and said, "My fault?"

"Because you ran your mouth and told my sister everything. It got out to other people what happened. It got out to Amalie, and now she won't even see me!"

"Oh, boo fucking hoo," Sarah said. "If anything I did her a favor."

"Had you just kept your mouth shut…"

"I have no interest in keeping your secrets," she said.

"...or your legs shut," he finished, sounding as if he was talking more to himself than her. He didn't even seem to hear her.

"Oh no..." she said slowly, her tone laced with venom. Jack planted his feet to make sure he remained between them because Sarah was now out for blood. "No, no, no, you don't get to say that. No, fuck you, Louis. You knew exactly what you were doing that night. You had it all planned out. You got exactly what you wanted, and you can't complain about it because you now have to answer for it. And I'll tell whomever I want because it's my business."

She then turned to face the entire common room. "Attention everyone! Louis Weasley and I had sex in the Prefect's bathroom two nights ago—"

There was a twittering around the common room. Some people were staring slack jawed; others were now giggling a little nervously.

Louis was grinding his teeth. "Shut—"

"And no matter what he tells any of you, he was perfectly happy with that choice," Sarah continued to call out, rounding back on him, "Twice. He was happy with it twice."

"Shut the fuck up, Sarah!" he yelled. "You're full of shit!"

"Oh am I?" she said, her voice barely above a hostile whisper as she closed in on him. Jack was fairly certain that no one outside of him and Louis could hear her now. "Well, I'd rather be full of shit over what you unloaded into me the other night, Louis! TWICE!"

Jack pulled a quick turn-a-about to look at Sarah, He whispered rather harshly, "Sar, stop! You know this isn't real. It's because of the spell—"

"There is no spell!" Louis yelled, and Jack swung back around. "Dominique made that up and is full of shit!"

"Why would she make that up?" Jack asked, still attempting to be the voice of reason considering Louis was clearly blinded by his spell right now. This wasn't him. He didn't know who this was, but this was not Louis Weasley.

"Because she doesn't like Amalie or our connection! She never has! She doesn't want us to be together!"

"She hasn't been near her all day!" Sarah snapped. "She's had a hundred better things to do today than go near that girl—like watch her boyfriend and her Quidditch team win the bloody cup!"

"Then it had to be you," Louis yelled at her. "Someone told Amalie we fucked, and if it wasn't Nic, this it had to be you. You're jealous that I've moved on and found someone better—"

Sarah laughed—loudly and derisively. "Jealous? Jealous of what? I don't even know who you are anymore, and I'm not interested in finding out. And like your sister, I also have better things to do than meddle in this made up love life you've created in your head!"

"It's not made up!"

"But I'll give this new girl credit for one thing," Sarah continued, her tone highly patronizing. "At least she's realized early what a waste of time you are!"

"Sarah, stop!" Jack yelled, feeling the need to reiterate again that this was not the Louis that all knew standing in front of them. This was the spell, and while it may have felt good to unload onto him—especially when he was acting like this—none of this mattered. He wasn't even processing this. This wasn't the time.

"I won't stop!" Sarah snapped. "It's about time someone told him—"

"Sarah, no one fucking asked you," Louis said, stepping forward toward her. "This is between me and my stupid, fucking sister—"

At that, Jack stepped forward and put his hands on Louis to remove him from this situation. He attempted to guide him back—away from Sarah, away from all of this—but Louis apparently did not appreciate being touched. Out of nowhere, Louis pushed Jack back with a force that was well beyond what Jack would have expected from his friend. He stumbled backward, only to immediately step back toward him.

"Don't fucking touch me," Louis said to Jack, attempting to push him once more, only this time Jack braced himself. When met with resistance, Louis reacted by instinctively reaching for his wand—Jack knew that gesture.

Not waiting to see what happened next, and knowing how bad this could be if Louis got a hold of his wand in this state, Jack pushed him hard. It caused Louis to suddenly—wildly—swing his fist on him and connect straight into the side of Jack's face. It collided with the spot just beside his nose, but Jack barely had time to register the pain or shock because instinct had him return to the gesture. He pulled his fist back and rammed it straight into Louis' face.

Gasps and screams. There was a crack of a noise when his fist collided dead on with Louis' nose. Jack had always known—seeing as he's had his nose broken a time or two on the pitch—that the blood from a broken nose could come on hard and fast; this was no different. Like a faucet, Louis's nose began to pour out crimson blood. He yelled, grabbed as his face, and was now doubled over and clutching himself as the blood poured through his finger and dribbled onto his shirt. Jack only barely noticed that his fist hurt.

"You fucker! You broke my nose!" Louis said though his muffled hands, as several people rushed over to examine what had happened. Jack could hear Flynn behind him say, "Shit, Jack," while Sarah stood beside him with her mouth agape—her eyes wide and darting between Louis and Jack.

Jack swallowed. Shit. What had he done? He'd just punched his oldest and best friend in the world in the face, even though he knew he wasn't in his right mind. What the hell had come over him? He hadn't wanted to do it. He didn't need to have done it. He'd just...reacted. Shit.

"Lou," he croaked. "I'm…"

"Fuck you!" Louis said, still holding his nose, but now retreating to a chair quite a ways away. Jack felt the entire room's eyes on him and didn't like how it felt. From nearby, he heard Tommy saying, "You had no choice, mate," but it certainly hadn't felt like that. Of course he had choices.

And what would Dominique say? Yes, her and her brother were fighting, but she'd always been the first person in his corner under normal circumstances. Someone punching her brother in face would have earned them her wrath in the past, and who was to say she wouldn't be upset with him now? He should have known better.

Jack sat himself silently in a chair, taking in the atmosphere of the room having significantly dropped off. People were retreating to their own corners—casting looks and glances over their shoulders at him. Some disappeared entirely upstairs. Flynn had gone to talk to Louis, but Sarah had remained by Jack's side and told him repeatedly that he was only defending himself. She'd speak to Longbottom if she had to.

She'd done just that when Longbottom had arrived shortly after, looking both concerned and alarmed at the situation. Neither he or Louis said much of anything, so Sarah really was the only person offering up much of any explanation. Longbottom excused her however and told her he'd speak to her later. At the moment, he wanted to deal with Louis and Jack.

"This is all very odd behavior from either of you," Longbottom had said to them a half an hour later, after both Jack and Louis had given their accounts of what had happened. Jack had attributed everything to spell damage and Louis having lost his mind now that he wasn't on the proper potions regiment. Louis had loudly proclaimed that Jack didn't know what he was talking about.

"He's just bought into the lies my sister's told him," Louis said to Longbottom. "He had no idea, Professor. How would he know if not for her? She's got him completely whipped."

Jack's eyes went wide. "I'm _what_?"

Louis looked at him, but Jack didn't recognize anything he saw in those eyes. "You heard me."

"You would throw yourself off the bloody Astronomy Tower right now if that Beauxbatons' girl asked you to, but _I'm_ whipped?" Jack snapped. "You just went on a tirade through Gryffindor Tower over a girl all because she doesn't want to see you, but _I'm_ whipped? You hit me—!"

"You broke my bloody nose!"

"Because you hit me!"

Longbottom sighed. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. It was almost as if he was watching something he'd never considered having to witness before. "Gentlemen, it's typical for the stresses of the seventh year to come to a head sometimes, but to let it affect your friendship—"

"Some friendship" Louis muttered. "Ever since he got with my sister, he's dropped everyone else and hasn't looked back."

"What are you even talking about?" Jack practically yelled. "You told us you were happy we'd gotten together. You gave us your blessing!"

"Yeah, well, that was before…"

"Before what?" Jack snapped back. "Before you blew us all off to spend all your time with the Beauxbatons' people? If anyone's dropped everyone and hasn't looked back, it's your Louis. Because the rest of us are exactly where you left us. And that didn't seem to bother you until you went off your potion."

"Would you shut up about this potion!" Louis shouted. "I'm not under some bloody love spell! Dominique made that up!"

Longbottom silenced them both then, seemingly having had enough of them at that point. He'd called Sarah in to have her recount her story of events, which Louis eye rolled and scoffed his way through. Longbottom didn't take any real notice, and Jack wanted to scream and yell—to make perfectly clear—to Longbottom that this was clearly not the Louis Weasley they all knew and loved. He had to see that.

But Jack didn't say any of those things and resolved himself to sitting silently in that chair and staring at a strange silver instrument that kept turning clockwise on Flitwick's desk. There was nothing he could say with Louis sitting directly beside him. He was starting to wonder if it was already too late.

Longbottom insisted Louis go to the hospital wing, despite his protests that his nose felt fine. He insisted that Pomfrey look at it, and Louis begrudgingly did as he was told. It wasn't until he'd left the office that Longbottom turned and spoke to both Jack and Sarah, who'd he'd yet to dismiss.

"I'm well aware of the issues Louis is dealing with. His sister and I had a conversation about it earlier. I have every intention of having him looked into."

Jack sat up straighter. Despite feeling so angry at Louis right now, he knew that anger was for this stranger who was currently inhabiting Louis' head. If this could be fixed—if the real Louis could be freed of that spell, things would go back to normal. Everything would be fine.

"Do you think he can be helped?" Jack asked. "That this can all be fixed?"

Longbottom sighed. "If there's one thing I've learned in my life, you can never say for sure when it comes to spell damage."

* * *

**#47: Bucket List**

"I hate how this isn't as fun as it used to be," Dominique said as she stared around the empty Quidditch pitch. It was twilight and the sky was purple moving closer to black. A cool breeze swept around both she and Jack as they stood there with their broomsticks in hand, having spent the last half an hour flying—or in her case—trying to fly around..

After the Quidditch Cup match, Jack had taken a small break from flying to focus on his N.E.W.T.s. It seemed almost a wasted effort, seeing that his future lay in brooms and Quidditch, not Herbology and Charms; still he thought he'd at least make an effort. Even if he did have a folder full of interest letters from potential scouts and teams, anything could happen to him. Dominique's current plight had proven that.

But with their exams finally finished, tonight was the first night he'd convinced Dominique—who'd cracked down rather hard on her exams—to get out of the castle and stretch her legs after a week's worth of intense studying. He'd also been hoping to distract her from the impending final task of the tournament the following day, which he knew was consuming all of her thoughts.

She'd been hesitant to come out here at first, as she often was now when confronted with the prospect of flying and revisiting that old wound. He could tell just by watching her how much she wanted to be better again—not even top level, just capable of pulling off the moves she once could; the dives and quick maneuvers. It never took her long to get frustrated when she couldn't, but he wanted her to realize that being on her broom could still be her thing.

"I know," he said as he watched her fiddle with a broom handle, almost as if it were a foreign object. "But you're putting too much pressure on yourself to get back to where you were. I just want you to have some fun. Fly around with me like the old days."

She looked up at the sky for a long moment before finally turning back to him. "That's the only reason I'm here."

He tossed his broom to the ground and walked over to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer so that her head gently thumped into his chest. She'd had a rough night. She and Louis had apparently had another awful row earlier, and while she'd only given Jack a quick overview, he knew at the core what it was all about. While Louis had his love spell sorted out by Healers at St. Mungo's, who'd apparently need to work some very advanced magic, he still was very angry—maybe even humiliated—about how everything had happened. He still wanted nothing to do with anyone.

Louis currently wasn't speaking to either Dominique or Jack—despite the latter trying multiple times to attempt to engage him in conversation and apologize. Dominique had tried as well, but her attempts had resulted in nothing more than her feeling like shit after confronting him. It was the biggest reason Jack had tried to get her out here tonight; tried to recreate her old happy place and cheer her up.

"Well, if that's the only reason you're here," Jack said, "then I appreciate you coming out here for me. I like riding around with you."

She sighed, letting herself look up at him, her chin resting against his chest. "I think I prefer riding around _on_ you, but this is cool, too..."

He laughed before he let her go, watching as she smirked a little and again started examining her broom as if it were a puzzle she were trying to figure out.

It had been awhile—well, over a week—since the two of them had some proper, intimate alone time, which Jack was itching for. Her, too, it seemed since she'd been making those loaded, sexy comments all evening. Under normal circumstances, they were usually all over each other, sex at least once a day; sometimes more. Those perfect early relationship days where she was like water to him and he was always thirsty. But with exams and Louis being stationed in their shared bedroom all of the time—keeping watch and hiding behind his bed hanging—opportunities for one-on-one time had become increasingly limited.

Dominique looked a bit glum as she let her broom drop to the ground. She then sat down beside it and continued to look around the pitch. "This is probably the last time I'll be out here."

"We could come back tomorrow," Jack offered.

She shook her head. "Tournament's tomorrow. Things are moving fast now. School will be over before you know it."

He pondered that as he went over to sit beside her. He hadn't really thought of it like that, but this very well could be the last time he was on this pitch as well. That was a rather bittersweet thought. He hadn't quite processed saying goodbye to the place that had essentially changed his entire life.

"The first time I ever set foot on this pitch," he said, pointing toward the left side entrance, "For an Open Pitch first year, I tripped and fell face-first right over there. A group of older kids laughed at me."

"It was probably funny," Dominique offered, smiling as she said it.

"Probably," he said. "And then I can remember sitting just over there with you—" He pointed across the pitch—"when Durrin picked us both for the team third year."

She smiled even wider. That was the smile he'd been looking for; the one he'd missed all night. "That was such a great day. One of the best days I'd had here at school." She looked back at him. "You know, you could probably call that the moment," she gestured between them, "we got put into motion."

"Nah, I'd say we got started the summer before. In your clearing at the house," he said, reaching out to absently run his fingers around her knee. "That's what I think about when I think of the early days of you and me. You being mean and telling me how I needed to work harder if I ever wanted to amount to anything." He let his hand drift just a bit up her thigh. "Good thing I listened to you because you weren't wrong."

She laughed as she put her hands behind her to prop herself up and stretch her back, arching herself off the ground. Just the movement of watching her t-shirt pull against her body then, it creeping up to reveal her stomach and clinging to the parts around her breasts...His mind was already fixating entirely on what he wanted to do to her.

"And then fourth year," she said, having stopped stretching and now looking over at him. "The best season."

"Without question," he agreed, throwing a quick look around the pitch where he was suddenly envisioning all the things that he could remember from that year. The spot where the team had tackled each other after they'd won the cup. The spot where Dominique had rammed Davies in the crotch. The spot Durrin had screamed at the lot of them when they'd been practicing like shit. The spot he knocked Holly off her broom. The spot Rolly and him had sword fought with their bats after a particularly great match against Slytherin. It had been one hell of a season.

"And I can remember the first time you hugged me," Dominique said out of nowhere. "I don't know why I remember it, but I do."

He looked at her. He wasn't going to lie, he couldn't remember this. He could remember them hugging several times after matches when he'd been hugging the rest of the team—all those memories ran together—but that had been before she had the effect she had on him now. Back before he was keeping track.

"It was fifth year," she said, pointing toward the other end of the pitch. "After Hufflepuff. I'd had that amazing catch—the one where I'd practically come off my broom."

"I remember that," he said.

"And you'd come over and, you know, you were just celebrating and you went to hug me like a friendly thing, and I let you." She turned back to look at him. "I never let anyone…" She made a funny face. "I didn't hug. I don't know why I let you, but I did."

He smiled a little, wishing he could remember this specific example because it seemed significant enough for her to remember. Instead he joked, "See, you wanted me even back then."

She let out a doubtful laugh. "If I did, I would admit it." She pulled herself back up into a sitting position to face him and push his hair back. "No, I think I just liked you more than I liked most people. And I mean, genuinely liked, not...you know, how I like you now."

He continued to smile, taking in the fact that her face was very close to his now. He was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than her pretty eyes looking into his. "I'm going to pretend it's because you really wanted me."

"I did not," she said, seemingly acknowledging their closeness and taking the opportunity to lean in to kiss him with quite a bit of intent behind it. It was all in the way she let her lips melt into his, which wasn't particularly innocent. "I do want you now, though."

"I want _you_ now," he said as he pushed forward to force her into a lying position on the soft grass. He was now on top of her; their kissing ramping up and he started running his hand up and down her sides. Who needed a room that was being guarded by Louis?

" _Right now_?" she asked once he wasted no time tucking his hand under her shirt to reach up and fondle her through her bra. "This second?"

He was nodding and letting his mouth escape to her neck. "If that's alright with you. I can't help myself. You look really good. And it's been ages."

She half moaned, half laughed. "It's been a week."

"A week _too long,_ " he said, already moving his mouth down to her collarbone and bunching her shirt up in his hands to push upwards. And as far as he was concerned, it was too long when his new happy place was usually any and all situations where she let him share parts of her.

She laughed again, but it was playful and she wasn't objecting to any of the rubbing and touching he was now busy doing. "Wait, is this going to happen?"

He stopped kissing her collarbone—where he'd half worked her top up to pull over her head—long enough to look up at her. Was what going to happen? The sex? He was fairly certain he'd made himself clear about his intentions. And she'd never shied away from it in the past, so was he doing something wrong…?

"On the bloody pitch," she added, now pushing his hair off of his forehead again to look at him. "What did Tommy call it earlier? The 'top of the mountain'? After I'd just got through telling everyone that I'd never...not here."

"Do you...not want to?"

"No, I do." She leaned in and kissed him eagerly. "I just didn't think it would ever happen."

He let himself drink in the moment; their lips fighting an equally winning battle against each other before he rather breathlessly mumbled out, "It fits because the two things I really love, I've found right here. It's a very special space."

Dominique ended up joking on their walk back, now that the sun had set entirely and darkness had surrounded them, that she'd finally got to check that off her bucket list. If it truly was the last time either of them set foot upon that pitch, at least they'd gone out with a bang. One last final, perfect memory of many from that pitch.

"You've got grass in your hair," she'd said after following him through the portrait hole. She was already gently pulling at it before he could check.

"You were sort of driving my head into the ground for a second there," he said playfully, taking his hand and rubbing it quickly back and forth across his head in case there was more of it up there. "I think I'll go have a shower."

She nodded, looking as if she thought that was a good idea and that she might do the same. She'd immediately gone quiet, and Jack had noticed as soon as they'd stepped into the common room that her anxious mood had returned. The impending tournament the following day and the drama with her brother had evidently come crashing back.

He'd told her he'd be back down in a bit, and disappeared to put his broom away and grab a change of clothes. As usual upon entering his room, the distinct sounds of Vraa—a shitty, angry rock band that Louis was particularly interested in these days—came pouring out from behind the closed hanging of his bed. Louis knew the spell to keep the noise contained, but he never performed it. Jack assumed he was doing it on purpose, and he often went to sleep performing his own noise canceling spells.

He'd pulled clean clothes out of his trunk and had been about to turn to exit when the hangings to Louis' bed suddenly came flying open. It hadn't been on account of Jack—Louis seemed just as startled to see him as Jack was—and he quickly pushed a pile of clothes, books, and other items he seemed to be organizing on his bed out of sight. He apparently wanted his things out of view.

They were both looking at each other; neither one of them saying a word. Jack didn't know if he should say something. This was the most acknowledgment that Louis had given him without shouting something in ages.

"Hey," Jack finally said.

"Hey," Louis said, breaking eye contact then to pull himself off the bed. He'd been apparently headed somewhere, though Jack didn't bother to ask where. He let him exit the room first, only to notice that he looked to be headed in the direction of the bathroom. The exact same place Jack was headed.

Jack thought about waiting until he got back before heading for his shower—he hadn't exactly wanted to follow him in there since it seemed odd—but another part of him was telling him to do it. He could possibly speak to him in the bathroom; Louis wouldn't have the protection of his bed hangings to hide behind there. He probably could hide out in a shower stall, but would he be that ridiculous just to avoid talking to him?

One way to find out.

Jack walked into the bathroom, seeing the rows of shower stalls that were currently empty. A shaggy haired second-year was washing his hands and the two made eye contact as he passed to leave. Outside of Louis, who was currently inside of a stall, the room seemed deserted. Jack went to toss his things inside the nearest shower cubicle and reappeared just in time to find Louis exiting to wash his hands.

They stared at each other for a second before Louis asked, "Did you follow me?"

"I'm going to shower," Jack said as he pointed his wand at a towel from a stack on a nearby table, snatching it as soon as it came within reach. He was still standing by the door. If Louis wanted out, he'd have to go straight through him.

How different this was from the days where the two of them spent so much time together, they did actually visit the loo in pairs. Even if only one of them had to go, the other always followed, simply because they hadn't wanted to freeze their conversation. That had been first year, second year, third year. They'd truly been inseparable.

They'd got less attached at the hip by fourth-year—both were capable of waiting the other out back in the room while the other was to have a wee—and gradually had just been pulling further and further away as the years went on. That was normal to an extent, Jack knew that. They had their own lives and paths to follow, but he'd never have expected them to have sever this completely. He didn't want it to be this way.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me," Jack said as Louis distracted himself with the running water washing over his hands. "And that's fine. Don't talk. But I am going to ask you to listen."

Louis didn't say anything. He was busy pretending to inspect himself in the mirror. Jack wondered if he noticed how tired he looked these days; the familiar, playful nature in his eyes was gone. It had been replaced by a detachedness and dark circles.

"Louis, I'm sorry," he said plainly. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for not talking to you when I should have. I'm sorry for keeping things from you because I thought I was helping by not bringing it up. I'm sorry for hitting you in the face—I regretted that the second after I did it. I'm sorry that you feel like I've betrayed you because I never—I would have never..."

Louis still wasn't looking at him, but Jack had a sneaking suspicion he was listening. He pressed on.

"I…" He looked away. "Fuck, I'm going to just say it. You know I love you like a brother, mate. I love you. Your friendship means the world to me. It's ninety-nine percent of the reason I even made it through those first few years here at school, because I wouldn't have if it weren't for you. You took me under your wing and showed me what this world was like; what having a friend was like. I never had friends before you, you know that."

Jack looked away. He was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by emotion.

"And I'm sorry if you think I've picked your sister over you because I haven't. I mean, I guess in some ways...maybe? But not in ways that should have affected us. I still consider you my best friend and I always will. No matter what you want to say about me—whether you've decided I'm dead to you, I will always consider you the best friend I've ever had. Fuck, Louis, we practically raised each other around these corridors. There is no one out there I can claim that of. No one. And…"

He swallowed hard, forcing down a particularly large lump in his throat when he looked back at Louis. He was staring down into the sink rather vacantly.

"I just need you to know this," Jack said. "I need you to know this before you walk into that task tomorrow because I couldn't live with myself if all of this went unsaid."

There was silence. Louis still didn't look or speak to him. Jack wasn't sure if he would, though the moment was shaken up by the appearance of two fourth-year boys who were walking in and laughing about something. Louis had immediately straightened up in the mirror and Jack had turned to enter the shower stall, attempting to hide his now stinging eyes.

He closed the door behind him and let himself lean his head against the door for a good, long minute. Well. He'd spoken his peace. That was all he could do. Louis could do what he wanted with that.

With a heavy breath, he pulled his shirt off and started to tug on his joggers, the same ones he was now having a flash of Dominique pulling off of him a bit earlier and forcing his bare arse against the cool, green grass of the Quidditch pitch. He let himself remember that fresh memory as best he could, seeing as that was a more preferred headspace than the one he'd been in a second ago.

He turned on the water and went to look for his soap, only to have a paper towel suddenly plunk off of his head. It immediately fell to the ground and got swept up into rushing water, quickly losing all of its shape as it absorbed everything it touched.

He stared at it for a long moment before he turned to push open the door to his cubicle, sticking his head out for any sign of Louis. Nothing was there. The only noise was that of the boys who'd come in moments before and were still talking amongst themselves.

Louis was nowhere to be seen.


	9. Meet the Family

**#48: Through the Bedroom Window**

It was just before midnight when Jack Apparated outside of the very small fixed awning beside Dominique's bedroom window. He could already see that her window was open. That was how she always left it.

He crawled through, as he did nearly every night since they'd finished school, and immediately went to remove his shoes. His jeans were next, though he had no salacious plans at the moment. His intentions were currently entirely innocent—he'd just wanted to be comfortable.

Dominique was sleeping, but it was clear she'd dozed off while attempting to wait up. There was an open novel laying over her chest and she was lying awkwardly against her pillows. A small light was illuminating her on the bed while the rest of the room sat in darkness.

He walked over and made sure the door to the room was locked. He immediately noticed his broom—he always left it at her house—sitting in the corner of her bedroom, and realized she'd brought it upstairs for him to take first thing in the morning. His routine had him still rising at dawn to work out; usually back out the window and straight out to the clearing by her house to get in his flying time. The Trials were a month away, so he'd become rather hardcore about this.

Dominique would usually join him later in the morning when she'd woken up, mostly to watch him and give him pointers; both of them pretending around her parents that he hadn't spent the night and just always arrived there very early. They would spend much of their day together—keeping each other company in the wake of Louis' disappearance—before Jack would usually head home to visit with his parents for a bit; giving off the appearance that he did leave from time to time. Not that anyone—her parents or his—seemed to care.

He would Apparate straight back over before sleep, though. Always climbing through the window and finding himself exactly where he was now.

He turned off Dominique's light and crawled into bed beside her, tossing the novel gently to the floor and then wrapping his arms around her to announce to her his presence. She stirred a bit and looked over at him, and he gave the back of her neck a quick kiss. "Hey."

"You're late," she said, turning to allow herself to sleepily adjust to resting her head on the crook of his arm and making herself comfortable.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I thought maybe you weren't coming," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I just got held up a bit," he said, letting himself absently run his fingers through her hair. "I ran into my dad on the way out."

His parents weren't the type to harp on about curfews and being situated home any longer. After years spent living with Jiffy—who was constantly sneaking out—they'd given up trying to wrangle things. Their only wish was that no one came back to the house unannounced in the middle of the night, and that no one came and went at all hours. If you were out, you stayed out. They'd got used to a very quiet house once Jiffy moved out and Jack was off at school; now that he was home, his father specifically was quite clear about his expectations.

"We know you're sneaking out at night," he'd told Jack after cornering him in the kitchen half an hour earlier. Jack had made the mistake of getting a drink of water before leaving, and his footsteps on the stairs—as opposed to his usual quiet Apparition from his bedroom window—had apparently roused his father.

Jack hadn't known what to say to that. Arguing against the truth seemed pointless.

"Are you out all night with friends or are you off seeing your girl?"

"I just go over to Nic's house and…" He shrugged. "Sleep."

His father threw him a look as if to say he didn't believe that was as innocent as it sounded, but it was entirely true. He and Dominique hadn't had anything close to sex since that night on the Quidditch pitch. When he came over in the middle of the night, they did nothing more than cuddle and sleep. Since Louis had disappeared, Dominique had been dealing with quite a bit—rightfully so. They both had, but she actually blamed herself for his disappearance; for disappointing her parents, for failing to fix things. No matter how many times Jack told her—how everyone told her—that Louis had ultimately made his own choices in the end, it obviously fell on deaf ears. She barely left the vicinity of her house except to visit with a Healer.

She was grieving, and Jack's regular late night visits were meant to be supportive since she'd told him he slept better when he was there.

"You are being careful?" his father asked. "Because with your career and your life is just taking off, Jack. The last thing you need is to get your girlfriend preg—"

Jack sighed. "When we do have…" He stopped short of saying the word 'sex' because images of him and Jiffy being smaller and being lectured by their father about not consequences of premarital sex flashed across his mind. His father wasn't stupid enough to realize he wasn't having it, but that didn't mean it needed to be said. "Yes. There are spells. But I really am going over there to just sleep. I've told you she's going through some stuff with her brother running off."

His father nodded. Both he and his mother had been very keen to meet this girl who apparently their youngest son was so hung up on, but Jack had to explain to them why he wasn't about to bring her around straight away. She'd been dealing with too much; she hadn't needed the pressure of meeting the parents on top of that. When she was ready.

"And how are you handling it?" his father asked. "You're always talking about how Dominique is coping, but you've barely spoken about how you're handling things."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"Louis is your best friend," he said obviously. "I know you feel this need to help take the burden off of his sister, but Jack, you've got to be struggling with this as well."

If he were being honest, he was and he wasn't. He'd been through a roller coaster of emotions these last few weeks, especially early on, but he'd felt he'd plateaued mostly now into a strange sort of place. Yes, he was torn up at Louis taking off without a word of goodbye to anyone; he was upset with the way they'd left things. He was upset that Louis felt he had no alternative than to run off. However, he also knew Louis Weasley well enough to know that on some level, he'd always wanted to leave—to seek, to discover. He'd been making offhand comments for years about seeing what was out there; it had been the reason he'd entered the tournament in the first place. He could easily remember how carefree and happy he'd been on that holiday trip they'd taken with Jiffy's band over Christmas.

He also knew Louis well enough that he hadn't made the decision to pick up and leave at the spur of a moment. Despite what Dominique thought, no one person's comments or actions sent him running off. He would have thought things through, most likely in the hours spent sitting behind his bed curtains those last couple of weeks; he would have been searching for something. If Louis wanted answers, he would find them. And Jack truly believed that after this year, all Louis wanted were answers. Jack only wished he'd been privy to the questions before it was too late. But the days of them sharing every thought in their heads to each other were long gone.

"I miss him," Jack told his father. "And I'm honestly hoping he takes this time to find some happiness. Everyone is so concerned with getting him back, but I think this is something he would have done with or without everything he went through. Maybe not with all the secrecy and drama..." He looked away. "But I'm not as worried about him as I probably should be. And I sort of feel bad about that because I could never tell Nic or her family that."

And he hadn't, nor would he. While he wanted nothing more than for Louis to find peace and happiness on his terms, he had to focus on his life and the people who were still in it; on helping Dominique get back to finding her own sense of peace and happiness. That usually meant not sharing his thoughts when the topic of her brother came up and instead just listening.

"You ran into your dad?" Dominique asked, staring up at him. "Did you get into trouble for sneaking out?"

He shook his head. "I don't really get in trouble for stuff like that anymore. My parents are fine with me popping in and out, so long as I'm quiet about it."

"I wish my parents were," she said, resting her head once more. "I feel they're in this strange in between where they can't be bothered to keep track of me because they're so preoccupied, but they're also so insistent on keeping me close because they're afraid I'll leave too."

"You're allowed to leave," Jack offered. "Maybe not disappear, but leave."

She was quiet for a long moment. "I wouldn't even know where to go."

"We should do something before I go to the Trials," he said, resuming his stroking of her hair. "I'm not even sure what happens after that, only that I'll probably be playing Quidditch non-stop—"

"How awful," she said sarcastically.

He ignored her and glanced down to look at her. "I seem to remember you saying something about dragons."

She chuckled a little into his chest. "You know, my parents would probably be in favor of that. They'd say my Uncle Charlie could keep an eye on me."

"How close an eye?" Jack asked. "Because, it'd be nice to get some time with you away from eyes and people and this house and the things that constantly remind you of…"

He stopped short of saying Louis' name. Dominique stirred a little in his arms.

"It would," she said blankly. "I could use a change of scenery."

"Speaking of a change of scenery," he said, shifting her off of him slightly and now coming face to face with her. "If you are looking to get out of the house, my parents are still very keen to meet you. They keep asking. Might think I'm making you up."

Even in the dark, he could see her expression twitch a bit nervously.

"I won't push it, but I'd love for you to meet them," he said as he tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "They're going to love you."

"People don't usually love me based on first impressions," she said, turning over onto her back.

He pulled her close and kissed her quickly before settling himself to fall asleep beside her. "These ones will."

* * *

**#49: Movie Magic**

A week after that sleepy conversation, Jack came rushing down the stairs of his house with his feet thumping loudly on each and every step before he reached the bottom. He let his gaze cross the living room, where the new sofa his parents had purchased a few months prior sat unoccupied. He wasn't a fan of it and missed the old one, but he hadn't told his parents that. His opinion on furniture mattered very little to them these days, seeing as he spent so little time here.

He immediately started looking for his shoes, seeing as he had about ten minutes to get down to the back alley near the Killwin's house. He caught himself in the glass reflection of his mother's large collection case, the one that was filled with all of her ceramic biblical scenes. He straightened out the front of his hair quickly before he heard the sounds of someone approaching from the direction of the kitchen.

"You look terribly handsome," said his mother in an affectionate voice as she gave him a once over. "I've always liked how you look in green," she added, gesturing to his jumper.

"Yeah, Nic does, too," he said.

She made a funny face, which he took to mean, " _Right. Of course,_ " but she was quick again to smile at him once more. "I'm excited to meet her."

He took a deep breath. Tonight was the night that Dominique was venturing into his bubble—his Muggle bubble—and experiencing this entire other side of him. She was going to meet his parents, see his childhood home, his room, and his neighborhood. While he wasn't nervous, there was a nervous excitement about him. Besides just wanting her to meet his folks, he was hoping this would provide a decent distraction from the rest of her life lately.

His father had appeared then, eating an apple and wearing a nicer jumper than he usually would around the house. He gave Jack an appraising look and smiled. "She'll be here soon?"

He nodded as he bent over to tie his shoelaces. "I'm going to collect her now." He stood back up and looked from one of his parents to the next. "Remember. If we could not mention her brother or anything to do with that? If she brings it up, fine, but otherwise…"

"Yes, we know," said his father. "We'll stick to asking our curious question about magic tricks."

"And, again..." Jack said, knowing that his father did this on purpose now just to get a reaction out of him, "if we could avoid calling them tricks."

"Right," his father said, chewing rather loudly on his apple before he smiled. "Just magic."

"He knows better," his mother said reassuringly. "You don't have to worry."

Jack continued to stare at them. "It's just, she's a lot different from Jane. Jane knew about Muggle culture, but Nic goes back something like twenty generations of wizards. Maybe more, I don't know. All of this," he gestured around, "is mostly foreign to her. I'm trying to make it easy for everyone."

"We know, sweetheart," said his mother, smiling.

"But she can answer my broom flying questions?" his father asked. "Because I'd love to hear someone other than you explain to me what it is you're trying to make a career out of."

"That," Jack said matter-of-factly as he made to walk toward the door. "You can absolutely ask her. No one better to ask, actually. Let's definitely talk about that."

He'd picked Dominique up from just around the corner, and was surprised to find her terribly nervous about meeting his parents—which was rather funny, though he'd never admit that. She was fidgeting and carrying on about how she felt awkward around Muggles because she never knew what to do or say; she was afraid of insulting them or looking stupid. She wanted to make a good impression, and—he knew from past experiences—she didn't generally do that.

"They're going to love you," he'd told her before eventually leading her up the walkway toward the green door that he'd passed through a thousand times in his life. For good measure, he took her hand before using his other to turn and push on the doorknob, throwing open the door.

His parents were still where he'd left them, though they'd gone to sit on the sofa before standing to greet the pair of them. Jack could feel Dominique's grip on his hand tightening. He also noticed the look on both of his parents' faces when they got a good look at her, and he could only assume they were surprised by how startlingly pretty she was in person. He'd bet any money that his father was now wondering how his youngest, goofy-arsed son pulled such an attractive girl.

"Well, hello," said his mother brightly, smiling what Jiffy always called her 'Sunday morning smile'. It played into her always being friendly and cheerful at church and when put on the spot. "It's so lovely to finally meet you."

Dominique did nothing more than smile and throw Jack a quick look. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before making introductions. "Mam. Dad. This is Dominique. I may have mentioned her a few times…"

"A few thousand times," his father quipped, throwing Dominique a smile. "Barely shuts up about you."

"Alright," Jack said quickly, smiling back at Dominique before gesturing to his father. "So the loudmouth there is my dad, John."

His dad smiled and...waved. He actually waved from five feet away. He was really trying to win some king of the muppets award right now. Jack pressed on.

"And my mam, Meg," he continued, as his mother stepped forward to actually shake Dominique's hand and greet her once more with a friendly sounding, "Jack really has told us quite a bit about you." She looked at Jack. "And you're right, she is _very_ pretty."

Dominique threw him a funny smile, which caused him to briefly shut his eyes and accept that this was all going to happen exactly on his parents' terms and at the expense of some of his pride. Wonderful.

"Um, thank you," Dominique said, her voice quite a bit higher than normal. "And thank you for having me."

"No, thank you for coming," said his mother, who immediately beckoned for them to come and have a seat while she went and fetched some tea. His father said he'd help, leaving Dominique to now stare around the room as if taking everything in.

"This may be the first entirely Muggle house I've ever been in," she said quietly to Jack, her eyes now scanning in the mantle above the fireplace.

"Seriously?"

She nodded as she crossed over to examine the photographs sitting atop the mantle. "As far as I know. I mean, I'm aware of some Muggle stuff, you know. For example, that—" she pointed to the television, "is a television."

"It is," he said.

"Right," she said. "I knew that. I have seen them before. The pictures move; Muggles watch them. I'm not completely out of the loop." She let her eyes settle on a family photograph that was probably ten years old. "I couldn't tell you how Muggles make them work, but I've seen them playing in town before."

He smiled as he watched her. He almost felt like telling her that if they went the long haul and eventually decided to live together, they'd be getting one because he enjoyed having one. But he thought better of saying that out loud because while he may be able to see them together years into the future, he wasn't quite sure how far ahead she planned things.

"Always strange the photos don't move," she mumbled to herself, placing the photograph back down and immediately settling her eyes on another one. "That's not you, is it?"

Jack shook his head, noticing she was staring at a seven year-old Jiffy with his front teeth missing. "That's my brother. I'm…" He walked to the other side of the mantle and picked up a very similar photograph of him in the same Catholic school uniform at about seven; he handed it to her. "Here."

She smiled as she looked down at him. It was the same look she often gave puppies. "This looks much more like you. The other one's hair was too dark." She looked up at him. "You were adorable."

"I still am," he quipped.

She laughed and returned the photograph. "You look like your mum."

"You and I have that in common," he offered, watching as his parents reappeared in the room with tea and some snacks.

They sat for tea, and it was going really well. Jack had immediately steered the conversation toward Quidditch, knowing that his parents had endless questions and Dominique, endless answers. It let her hit her shake off her nerves and hit her stride straight away as she—in detail—explained the ins and outs of the British and Irish Quidditch league, what Jack should be expecting, the general career longevity for a top-level Beater, and how his specific playing style worked well within particular defensive models that were currently popular around the league.

"He had the absolute potential to be phenomenal," Dominique said to them. "And I don't only mean that because I'm biased and in love with him, but also because his numbers compared to the statistics of your average Beater…"

She hadn't even realized what she'd said, but both he and his parents—who had been listening rather raptly to her lecture up until that point—caught the, 'in love with him' part as soon as the words left her mouth. His mother and father both caught his eye quite suddenly—his mother almost startled and his father rather smugly—but all he could do was muster a bashful sort of smirk.

She'd just casually admitted in front of his parents that she was in love with him. Just like that; as if she was talking about the weather. The same girl who he couldn't get to properly date him for months was now apparently comfortable enough going around saying it that she didn't even realize she'd done it. She was still going on about Quidditch.

"The Trials will be the ultimate test for him," she said in a final sort of way, turning to smile at Jack and still completely unaware. "We just have to wait and see what happens there."

"Yeah," he said, returning her smile. He reached out and took her hand as it rested beside his own on the couch. He looked back at his parents. "That will be the test."

"Right, yes," said his mother, who still looked a bit startled, but smiled nonetheless and glanced at his father. "Well, um…"

He cleared his throat. "You certainly know your Quidditch, young lady," he said to Dominique. "Or you sound like you do. I'm starting to wonder whether you're Jack's girlfriend or his agent."

"Well, now that's an idea for a career," Jack said, giving Dominique's hand a squeeze.

That opened up a whole conversation about what Dominique wanted to do with herself now that she'd finished school, which was sort of a bit of a tricky subject. Jack had been so keen to prepare his parents about avoiding the subject of Louis, he'd neglected to ask them to also try and avoid asking her what she planned on doing with her life. That was still a relatively fresh wound as well.

"I'm not sure," Dominique said with a small shrug. "My plans have changed and I'm waiting on my exam scores before I look into things. Maybe working in Quidditch if I can swing it. In operations or regulations, that is."

"You sure do know a lot about it," said his mother, who then promptly asked her what else Dominique liked to do. She seemed keen in finding out more about wizarding hobbies that differed from what she was used to, but the truth was that outside of Quidditch, Dominique didn't have any exciting answers. Spending time with her family and friends. Travelling. Enjoying the seaside. All things they did here in the Muggle world too.

Somewhere along the way, his parents began to tell a very thin version of Jack's awkward childhood and untapped magical past. They'd presented it innocently enough, and thankfully didn't harp much on it. It did, however, lead them to comment about how he'd always spent so much time up in his room watching films when he was younger.

"It was always his favorite thing to do," said his father. "Watch films all day."

"I've never seen one," Dominique offered.

"What? A film?"

She nodded, which Jack truly hoped didn't lead to dumb jokes or comments about how that was probably the most insane things his parents had ever heard. They both seemed a bit too surprised by the confession, which caused his father to simply say, "Oh, well, you'll have to have Jack show you some of the better ones." He looked at Jack. "Jurassic Park was always one of your favorites." He chortled. "Weren't you trying to learn all the words at some point?"

"Trying, but only half succeeded," Jack said, glancing over at Dominique. The look on her face said she had no idea what they were talking about, so he explained, "It's an older film. From the 90's. About dinosaurs coming back to life and reeking havoc. It's brilliant."

"I did enjoy that one," his father agreed. "Truly a great one. Though I could do without the sequels."

Dominique offered a watery smile, though her confusion didn't seem to be curtailed. "I don't...what's a dinosaur? Is that a kind of monster?"

Both of his parents now looked downright startled to hear that come out of her mouth, and Jack had to admit he flinched for the quickest of seconds. She clearly caught that and seemed suddenly abashed, having mentioned how she'd been afraid of saying something stupid. "I'm sorry…"

"No, it's alright," Jack said quickly. "Why would you have to learn about them when you've got actual dragons—which, that's what they're like. Very dragonish. Except minus the wings and the flying and the fire breathing."

"Some flew," his father offered.

"And they're all dead now—extinct, really—but they lived millions of years ago and they're actually sort of cool, but…" He looked back at her to see she was staring at him as if he were rambling. "Tell you what. We can have a look into them later. Next time you come over, we'll watch the film."

She sat forward in her seat and gave the group a quick look around. "But...and I'm sorry if this is also a dumb question, but Muggle culture is something I'm learning more about—"

"Oh, of course, dear," he mother offered. "We understand. Feel free to ask away."

"But if these things are all dead or extinct for millions of years, then how did they make the film with them only thirty years ago?"

"Oh, move magic," said his dad with a smile. Jack stared at him; the irony of the words he was using was completely lost on him.

"Um, Muggles have their own ways of making things appear real when they're not," Jack said, not really knowing where to start or if he even currently wanted to explain CGI or special effects to Dominique in the middle of his parents' sitting room. "It's complicated, but cool. Most of the stuff you see in films isn't real."

She was nodding slowly, as if taking all of this in. "But wait, is the internet the same?" she asked. "Because I remember you telling me…"

"Yeah, that's usually a different kind of fake," he offered.

"So, the videos of puppies you've shown me on your mobile?"

"Real."

"Of people cutting off body parts?"

"Fake," he said, though he added as an afterthought, "Hopefully."

"What are you showing her?" asked his mother, looking a bit disturbed.

He threw her a sheepish look. "This video had gone viral," he told her, referring to a video of a man sawing his arm off for views—which had since been debunked as fake—that he'd shown Dominique on his mobile one afternoon for a laugh. "The whole world was talking about it."

"And that horrendous explosion the other day?" Dominique asked him. "The one you were watching on your mobile...?"

"Oh, that was real," said his father, while both he and his wife pulled immediate sympathetic faces. "Terrible incident. All over the news."

"But, there are also fake sorts of explosions that they create for movies and entertainment," Jack said. "They're not all real. Explosions can go either way."

Dominique seemed to be thinking this over, as if this was now sort of shaking up her world view. "They create fake disasters and situations just for entertainment?"

Jack nodded. "Right. Just to make things worth watching."

"Alright, but the videos of the people having sex that you've shown? They're not really having it either? That's for entertainment too?"

The room got very quiet at that, and Jack's eyes shot straight up to the ceiling and away from his parents. Alright then. That had come back to bite him in arse, but to be fair that had been over a year ago and he'd actually been showing Flynn after he'd practically harassed him to prove that sex videos were just a few clicks away on a mobile. There had been a small group of them there watching it in his back garden, all wizard kids who seemed shocked that Muggles could carry porn around in their pockets. It had been for more of a laugh than anything.

But given his parents' expressions, they now presumably thought he showed his technologically sheltered girlfriend porn for fun and to lure her into compromising positions. Fantastic.

"Alright," Jack said, standing suddenly and looking at Dominique. "You want to see my room?"

She seemed stilted, but nodded and let her expression give way to the fact that something was off. "Did I say…?"

"No," he said quickly, looking back at his parents. His father was now rubbing his eyes, but honestly looked as if he was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand. His mother was staring at him stone faced, as if she wasn't quite sure where he'd even come from. All he could do was force the sweetest looking smile he had in him. "I'm going to show her…" He pointed toward the stairs, "my room."

"Hopefully not to watch more...films," said his mother, which caused his father to lose his battle against his laughter then.

Jack continued to smile. "Well, no. I don't think we have enough time for all of that."

Her brown narrowed. "Jack..."

"I'm kidding, you know I'm kidding," he said, pulling a clearly confused Dominique along toward the stairs. "We'll be upstairs—not watching dirty videos and being very well-behaved—if you need us."

His father was still laughing, which earned him an admonishing look from his wife. Jack hadn't stuck around to see what else happened, having pulled Dominique straight up the stairs and into his room. One they were on their own, he found her looking at him rather horrified.

"I said something wrong. About the sex films? As soon as I asked, I knew I shouldn't have, but I thought if we were talking about fake sex—not real sex—then it wasn't a big deal. Movie magic or whatever your dad called it. Maybe it was even normal, but…" She stared at him. "It's not normal, is it?"

"For some people it is, but not in this household it's not," Jack said as he started to laugh. "Just don't be surprised if I'm missing my training on Sunday morning, because I know she is making me go to church now. I'm not getting out of that."

She frowned, looking as if she felt bad about it. For some reason that just made Jack laugh harder. "Don't worry about it. They'll get over it. My dad even thought it was funny. Plus, it's me they'll blame. My mam is down there right now thinking I'm the one corrupting you. I can hear her now, 'Y _ou're making that sweet girl watch pornography_ …'"

"You're corrupting me?" Dominique cracked a smile at that. "How backwards she has us."

"Right?" Jack said, making sure his voice was low. "If anyone's been corrupted around here, it's me. I was innocent before you came along." He smiled at her. "You ruined me."

"Oh, you like it," she said, throwing him a rather knowing look. If he were anywhere else on this planet right now and receiving that look—especially after the last month—he'd have gone and kissed her face off before finding the nearest comfortable surface to take her on. But that would not fly here and now, so he put all of those thoughts out of his head as fast as they'd arrived.

The rest of the evening went off without another hitch, and despite Jack getting a rather reproachful look from his mother when he saw her again, she didn't seem overly bothered enough to bring anything up in front of Dominique.

They'd talked more about Quidditch and fond memories that Dominique and Jack had from spending the last seven years as friends, only for Jack to deduce by the end that his parents seemed quite fond of her. The fact that she was beautiful aside, she'd handled herself perfectly and came off as bright and well-spoken. He was still fairly certain that his parents were still wondering how he'd managed to get someone like her to fancy him.

"We've got one more stop on this Muggle tour," Jack said to Dominique as he started typing a message into his mobile, sending it quickly once he'd finished. "If you're keen to take a bit of a field trip."

Dominique looked confused. He'd sprung this on her and wasn't sure how interested she'd be in venturing out. After all, she hadn't really left her own house in a month—and now he was asking to take her to a surprise destination. But the truth was, it was somewhere he was really hoping she'd say yes to. He'd been hoping to swing it since earlier that morning, but until an hour ago, he wasn't sure if it would work itself out.

"Where are you going?" asked his mother.

"Dublin." He looked down at his phone. "If I can get a text back."

His mother nodded and seemed to understand immediately, whereas Dominique's eyes went wide. "Dublin? You want to go to Dublin now? What's in Dublin?"

"It's a surprise," he said with a smile. "Nothing over-the-top, I promise. We can just go have a drink."

Dominique pulled a face. "We can't have a drink here? It had to be in...in Dublin?"

He smirked. "Yeah. In this case, it does."

* * *

**#50: Madness**

A half an hour later, Jack walked he and Dominique both into a very crowded pub that was packed with people; he could feel her immediately stiffen at the busy nature of it all. People were scattered everywhere, claiming most of the free space, happily enjoying a pint and talking; enjoying the live music that was pouring out of an adjacent back room. Jack immediately grinned a bit as he took it all in.

"Fancy a pint?" he asked her.

She nodded a little warily. "Do you come here often or something?"

He shook his head as he maneuvered himself through the throngs of people, holding her hand and tagging her along as he went. "I've never been here before actually. It's really well known for its music scene, though."

"Well, that's nice and all, but…" She threw him a look. "We could have gotten music and a pint in loads of places. Why here?"

"Because there's someone here I'd want you to meet," Jack said as they emerged into the back room. He immediately saw that there was a crowd congregating around a staged area at the center of the room, everyone watching the show either raptly or casually. A very drunk looking couple was dancing rather widely at the front. However, his eyes immediately settled themselves on the shaggy, dark haired, skinny-arsed guitar player to the left of the stage.

He smiled and pointed. "That's my brother up there on the left."

Dominique immediately stood up on her tiptoes to see over some of the taller heads in front of her. It all seemed to be coming together for her now. "You brought me here to meet your brother?"

"Yeah, you're supposed to meet the family," he said with a grin. "You only got part of them, so I figured we should complete the puzzle."

She laughed a little, throwing him a look as if to say, " _Alright, then..."_

His brother's band set went on for another twenty-five minutes, in which Jack got them drinks and actually took the opportunity to sit back and listen. It brought back a lot of hard memories of the previous winter, when he and Louis had been sitting in pubs much like this one, usually half drunk and giggly, sitting in the back and watching this exact same scene play out. He could remember spending so much of that trip thinking about Dominique and wondering what she was doing. Now, here he was months later and she was sitting beside him and he didn't have to wonder. If anything, he'd traded out Weasleys; he had Dominique here, but in this moment, he now found himself wondering what Louis was up to.

When the band had announced their last song, Jack had shot his brother another text to tell him he was sitting in the crowd and that he bloody well better keep an eye out. It had taken the band being off stage for about six minutes before he noticed his brother emerge from somewhere backstage, looking in the direction Jack had poorly described. When they finally made eye contact, his brother's smile was both half amused at the sight of him, and half happy to just see he hadn't been full of shit.

"You could have given me some warning, Jacky," Jiffy had said when he appeared, wiping his sweaty face with a towel before he hugged Jack without any reservation.

"I texted you," Jack said once they broke apart.

"Yeah, about ten fucking minutes ago," he said as someone random walked by him and handed him a pint out of nowhere. He didn't seem to question it and took it without a word.

Jack blinked, but pressed on. "And before that. Check your bloody phone more often."

He made a face and gestured to the stage. "I was a wee bit busy." He glanced at Dominique, who up until this point had just been sitting and watching this play out. One thing was for certain, being out and about in the Muggle world really did do her head in a bit because Jack wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so reserved.

Jif smiled at her before turning to Jack. "This her, then?"

"Nic. Jif," Jack said, gesturing between them. "Jif. Nic."

Jiffy smiled at her as she put out her hand to shake, which he did in turn. Jack expected a wry comment at his expense from his brother about she needed her eyes checked if she was carrying on him—please, please, please no brain damage jokes—but Jiffy offered up nothing but a polite, "Nice to finally meet you."

"You too," Dominique offered, pointing to the stage. "Nice job up there."

He shrugged modestly and said, "Thanks. We do alright," before turning back to Jack. "How'd it go with the folks? Did dad make awful jokes and mam break out the good teacups?"

"Obviously," Jack said. "But they were well behaved." He smiled back at Dominique. "Especially once this one casually mentions how I show her porn."

Jiffy choked on his drink just then, his eyes wide with shock as he attempted to cough it out.

Dominique sighed. "I didn't know. I thought...I assumed I was making conversation."

"About pornography? With _my_ mother?" Jiffy laughed rather heartily as Jack began to quickly explain the story before his mind could run too wild with the possibilities. He seemed to find it just as funny as Jack expected; he was bloody near cackling once he'd heard the whole thing.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he said as he gave Dominique an appraising look. "I like your style. I would have killed to see my mother's face." He started laughing again. "Jack, you're never going to hear the end of that." He reached out and gave his face a light smack. "Such a filthy pervert."

Jack wiggled away from him before turning to Dominique, who looked begrudgingly amused rather than anything resembling proper annoyance. Jack sensed that on some level she enjoyed the humor in saying something so shocking, which—she hadn't done in awhile. It was far more in line with the person she was before Louis' disappearance; the one who'd gone into hiding lately.

"I rather enjoy when he's filthy pervert," she offered without missing a beat. "Prefer it, actually."

Jiffy blinked, giving his head a quick shake for good measure. He turned back to Jack with an impressed grin and said, "Well, good for you."

They didn't have a lot of time to chat and catch up, seeing as Jif had to do a second set for the evening crowd, but there were plans to carve out time together in the near future—hopefully before Jack went to the Trials and got swept up in whatever came from that. He was happy to at least get the introduction made between Jif and Dominique because things felt more complete now. She'd officially met all the most important people in his life and that was a good thing; especially since he was planning on having her as a part of his life for...a long time? Ever? As long as she would have him? Who knew?

"Stick around a bit for some of the second set," Jiffy told him as he hugged him goodbye. While he had him locked in a hug, he lowered his voice and said, "You smile like a dope when you look at her." He pulled back and grinned at him. "And you deserve that."

Jack smiled. "Thanks."

"Oh, but don't forget…" Jiffy said, though before Jack could ask what, he was whacking him upside the head with his forearm. "Duck."

Jack blinked away the suddenness of the gesture. "You're a grown arse man!"

"Mr. Quackers lives forever," he said, pointing to his duck tattoo and throwing Dominique a quick smile. "Jack used to show him porn, too. You weren't the first."

Jack closed his eyes. "For the love of…"

"We'll tell that story next time," he heard Jiffy say to Dominique before he once again told her it was nice to meet her. With a pat on the back and one last wink for Jack, he was gone after that; back in the crowd and presumably back to wherever the rest of the band were waiting.

Jack turned and looked at Dominique, who was smiling rather curiously at him. "Do I want to know?"

They did stick around for much of the second set, though as it was getting late and Jack truly had stretched Dominique to her social limits for one day, he could pick up on her cues that she was ready to leave. They walked out into the cool, clear evening, where the sun was just setting and allowing the sky to turn to inky purple. The busy street was filled with pedestrians coming and going in all directions; cars and buses passing by.

Jack wasn't quite sure where they'd Apparated into earlier, but as he took Dominique's hand and they walked a bit, he figured they'd find a quiet corner somewhere to leave. In the meantime, it was a nice night for a walk.

"Your family is almost exactly as I thought they'd be," she said as they strolled along the pavement.

He smiled. "How's that?"

"In my head I always assumed they were just these really sweet people—I mean they'd have to be to have raised you to be so bloody nice and thoughtful."

"' _Nice_ ,'" he repeated, stepping around a group of younger teenagers who'd been walking in the opposite direction. "You know there was a time you told me nice was a bad thing. Or a boring thing, actually."

"Did I?" she asked, though her face seemed to recognize some of the truth in that statement. She hummed before adding, "Seems like something I would have said." She squeezed his hand. "Good on you to ignore me. I was full of shit advice back in the day. I actually still am."

"You're not," he said, instinctively nipping her negativity in the bud before it spiraled. She had a habit lately, in the wake of Louis' disappearance, of trying to beat herself up given any chance she could find. It was almost a pittance she felt she owed the universe for her part in everything that happened. She claimed to be working on it in therapy, but he just had to catch her before she slipped too far.

"My family loved you. I could tell."

She threw him a highly doubtful look. "I openly talked about you showing me pornography."

"My dad caught my brother having sex on sofa a few years back, so that is tame by comparison," he said matter-of-factly. "That's one of the great things about my brother. He's thrown everything in the world at them and they've all lived to tell the tale. I look like a bloody angel by comparison."

She laughed, and even though she didn't seem entirely convinced her smile was genuine. There was that perfect smile that had thankfully been showing itself more and more often with each passing day. He was so happy to see it after the last few months that he pushed everything else out of his mind—his responsibilities, his obligations, his worries, his apprehensions—and he knew then and there that was all he ever wanted to do; be the reason she smiled like that.

They continued to walk—he was only half looking for a place to Apparate—because wherever they were, it was a charming little area stationed on an old cobblestone street. It was full of small shops, some of which were closing up for the evening. The light from the lampposts were reflecting off of front windows, there were people headed home or out for the night. It was honestly just a very lovely atmosphere. He could walk these streets with Dominique for hours and be perfectly happy with the situation.

It was insane when he really thought about it—what he'd done in seven short years. Seven years ago he was probably sitting around his room, hiding from the world. Now, he'd discovered an entirely new world and spent his entire adolescence learning to become a part of that society. He found a talent and skill set for a sport he'd have even known about had he not given Hogwarts or the wizarding world a chance. He met the best people, made the most amazing friends, and fell in love.

Sometimes he still was afraid this was all a dream and he was due to wake up at any moment.

They'd turned a corner and found themselves witnessing a gathering of sorts across the street. It was a large church, and people were exiting as if finishing up an event of some kind. He was immediately reminded of many instances where he and his family would have been mixed up in a crowd like that; he and Jiffy trying to clamoring to the front to get down the steps and back out into the fresh air as soon as possible.

"It's a wedding," Dominique said, pointing all of the sudden. Sure enough a woman in a very elaborate white dress had appeared alongside a man in a dapper looking suit. They were being ushered to a waiting car while people cheered and threw rice in their wake.

"I'm assuming there's a special significance to getting married in a church for Muggles?" she asked as they both watched the woman being helped into the car.

"For some people, yeah," he offered. "Everyone's got their own way of doing things. But for every one that does it in a church or religious building, someone else is getting married by a Registrar, or on a beach, or by lake, on a hill...Wherever. It's up to the people involved."

She was nodding and was silent for a long moment, both of them observing the spectacle across the street, before she turned back to him. "Wait, would you have to get married in a church? How does that work? I know your family—"

He shrugged. "I don't have to." He let himself smirk. "My mother would love it if I did. But to get married in a Catholic church, the girl would also have to be Catholic, and since—"

He stopped abruptly from finishing that sentence. He'd been seconds away from saying the words, "since you're not Catholic, I wouldn't…" but had thankfully caught himself before he'd come off as completely fucking mental. She'd probably have chucked him right then and there for already thinking things like that. Why was he already thinking like that?

He wasn't interested in getting married any time soon. One day, sure, but he had a life to get in order first; an entire career to put into motion. Yet, he'd be lying if the thought of it being her—some day; one day in the future—wasn't already a fixed image in his head. She was the one. He knew that. They just had to get there.

She was staring at him. "And since…?"

"I, um," he looked around. The wedding party was dispersing now, probably headed to a reception of some kind somewhere. "And since I'm not really into the church scene anymore, I don't think I'd want to, honestly." He cleared his throat. "Plus, you know, being a wizard now, I'm sure they've got their own ways of doing things. I'm not sure, I've never been to a wizard wedding."

She was nodding. "I've been to about a hundred—comes with the territory of having such a large family—but it's just a fancy ceremony with a spell that bonds you for life." She made an anxious face. "No pressure. Just commit your life to someone else _forever_."

He wasn't surprised by the slight panic in her voice—this was Dominique, after all. She needed to be eased into everything—but he did find himself having to ask, "Do you want to get married?"

Her head snapped toward him and she looked a bit alarmed by the question.

"One day," he added hastily. "I'm not...this isn't..." He started shaking his head. "Nope."

She laughed and visibly exhaled at the exact same time.

"I was asking more generally," he continued. "Do you see yourself...one day—"

"Do you?"

"Yes," he said plainly. "One day. Yeah."

She turned to observe him carefully. "I've never really thought about it. This _may_ surprise you," she said, laying that part on thick with sarcasm, "but I was not the type to be sitting around planning my wedding from a young age."

"No…" he said, feigning surprise. "You don't say."

She laughed. "And if I did, I can't see it being a big affair like that—" She'd pointed over to the church. "With the white frock and the loads of people watching, but if it could be different...Maybe? I don't know. Ask me again in a few years."

"If I'm still in the position to be asking you that again in a few years, I'll probably be asking the question a bit differently."

She was quick to observe him again, studying him quite intently. Her face quickly gave way to a faint smile. "You'd be mad to want to marry me."

He shrugged. "I'm rather enjoying my descent into madness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And we're done! Here's hoping you enjoyed Jack's Hogwarts journey. It was fun to write and offer a different perspective. As always thanks for reading and commenting! Almost all of these stories that I've written—this one included—have come from simple suggestions from reviewers that I've decided to expand upon, so I appreciate the feedback. :) 
> 
> Thanks again! :)


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